Confessions of a Broken Heart
by RMTNDEW
Summary: What happens when a man you've never met haunts you while you sleep? For Jayden Rivers, this is her reality. She has visions and begans to see a man named Logan, but what is it about him that won't leave her alone? She tracks him down to find out.
1. The Begining

Disclaimer: As soon as I become rich I'm A: going to buy a share in Marvel and Fox and B: Building a pirate ship in my back yard. Until then, I own nothing and I am shipless. I hope you enjoy the new story.

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Confessions of a Broken Heart

"Miss Rivers, can you tell me when you first started having these dreams?" Dr. Lewis asked as I sat in his office.

Once I came back from Canada, I promised my parents that I would speak to him. However, the session hadn't started off very well. This was going to take a while.

"They're not dreams, they're visions," I said, looking out the window at the rain.

"Visions of what?"

"Things that have happened. Things that will happen. I never know which is which."

"How do you know the difference between your visions and dreams? How do you know that one is real and the other is not?"

I looked back to him from the window. "How do _you_ know the difference between reality and dreams?"

"Are you saying that these visions you have, what you see, it's as if you're there?"

"Look, Dr. Lewis in order for you to understand, you have to believe what I'm telling you. I'm not crazy, I'm not having illusions, it's real."

"Jayden, this doesn't make sense. You have to give me a reason to believe you."

I looked back out at the window. "I'm a mutant," I said quietly.

"Is that why you ran away?"

"No, I ran away because you and my parents insisted that I was crazy. I'm not crazy; I just needed someone who believed me."

"Did he believe you?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Is he the one who convinced you to not tell your parents about being a mutant?"

"No, I met him in Canada; I had decided long before then that I didn't want to tell them."

"Why not?"

"Do you believe in mercy killings, doctor?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you believe that some people are better off dead rather than having to suffer through life?"

"I don't know."

"My parents do. Their son wasn't stillborn. He was born with green skin, scales and red eyes. He was a mutant. The only reason my parents adopted me was because the night before they showed up, I had a vision that they were going to be there. I was sitting there, dressed up, ready, waiting for them instead of outside eating worms, or whatever it was that other four year olds were doing. They wanted someone completely opposite of their son. If I told them that I was a mutant, after what they had done to their own son, what would they do to me? It's self-preservation, doctor."

"They told you that they murdered their son as a mercy killing?"

"No, I saw it."

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his brow. "Why did you run away?"

"Three months ago I started seeing visions with a man in them. It wasn't odd for me to have two or three visions of the same person, but after a month, I had had well over fifty of the exact same man. Every night as well as some during the day. Mom started to worry about me when I would blank out during dinner and so she and dad called you. After that night you came over to 'assess' me, I knew that I had to find him."

"Why?"

"Because there was something about him, something that I saw that I needed to know."

"And did you find out what you needed to know?"

I looked at him from where I had been staring at the rain. "Yeah."

"And what did you need?"

I made a weak smile and shook my head. "It's not that easy, I'm afraid. It's a bit more complicated…complex. It was never one thing, it was everything."

"Can you give me an example?"

"It was a feeling; I don't know how to explain it."

"Can you try?"

I let out a deep sigh and thought. "Have you ever been somewhere and they ask veterans or fire-fighters or a certain group of people to stand out of a much larger group? And when you see them stand up, one by one, you get cold chills, knowing that they've done something, they've been somewhere, they're part of something that we've never done or will ever understand. It's something that swells up when you realize that it's much bigger than you. That moment when you know that even if all of people standing up don't know each other, they're all connected." I shook my head. "I don't know how to explain it; I just know what it feels like."

"You wanted to feel as if you were part of something. Is that how he made you feel?"

I raked my fingers back through my dark brown hair and sighed. "No, not really."

"If he didn't make you feel that way, but that's what you wanted, how _did_ he make you feel? Loved…protected…scared?"

I let out a small laugh. "I was never scared of Logan," I said, then shook my head. "I was scared of him once, actually, but that was it, and it wasn't even that big of a deal."

"Was that when he forced you to drive across the country with him?"

I had to laugh aloud at the absurdity of his question. "Is that what you think happened; he '_forced_' me to drive across Canada with him? He had much better things to do than to drive around a teenager for nearly two months."

"Then why did you stay with him?"

"Like I said; he was something I needed."

"Well, why did you leave then?"

"Because although he was what I needed, wanted, it wasn't quite as simple as just staying. Again, like I said; it's complicated."

"How about we start from the beginning then, alright? Why don't you tell me how you met him? Do you remember that day?"

I smiled sadly and turned back to the window. "Yeah, I remember. It was raining and I was outside, soaked to the bone and beginning to think that after a week of looking for a man I had never met before, and wondering if I ever would, if I really was just crazy and should go home. I sat in some ally, trying to stay dry when I felt him. I couldn't even see him, but I felt his presence and I knew it was him."

The ground was hard underneath me, the wind was blowing cold around me and the late September rain was dripping down onto my head from the roof of the building above me. I was tired. I had barely slept the entire week that I had been gone, mostly because I had been too scared to fall asleep in any of the trucks that I had hitched rides in. It had taken me four days to get to Calgary, Canada from northern California. I had spent the past two nights sleeping in an old parking garage, but I had to move. I had a feeling that I needed to move south, that's where he was, but in the thirty minutes that I had been trying to wait out the storm, I thought about going home. That's when I felt him.

He came out of the back door leading from the bar across the ally from me. He swore and muttered something about the rain. I pulled myself up and stood, deciding to follow him for a while before speaking to him. I needed to get used to the idea that it was real. He was real. I was actually in Canada, basically living as though I were homeless, just for the sake of meeting a man who had no idea who I was. Maybe I _did_ need therapy.

I decided to follow behind him, but as soon as I took a step, I slipped in a puddle of water and fell back, knocking my head on the hard ground as I landed. Then everything went black.

"Hey kid, can you hear me?" I heard a voice ask above me. I slowly opened my eyes to see Logan crouching down by me.

"Yeah," I said, trying to focus. "I'm alright."

"I think you hit your head pretty hard. Let me look at your eyes." He took my face in his hand and looked right into my eyes. "I don't think you have a concussion, but you probably need to go home and lie down."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't have one?"

"Well where are you stayin'?"

"Uh…a parking garage, about fifty miles from here."

He swore. "You're livin' in a parkin' garage?"

"That's where I've been staying for the past two nights."

He let out a deep breath and looked around the ally. "Come on, get up," he said, helping me stand from the cold, wet ground.

My head began to spin the moment I stood and I swayed from the dizziness. He grabbed my arm and helped me to balance.

"I'm good, I'm fine."

"You're soakin' wet, here," he said, taking off his leather jacked and handing it to me.

I slipped it on and looked at him. "Thank you," I said quietly.

"Look, it's rainin' pretty hard and I think a storm's movin' in this way. If I give you some money, you think you can find a hotel for tonight?"

"I've got money, I don't need it."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You got money but you're sleepin' in a parkin' lot?"

"It's a garage, but yeah."

He blinked at me. "Why?"

"Honestly?"

"Well if you feel a lie would be better," he said sarcastically. "Yeah honestly."

"I was looking for you."

"Excuse me?"

"Are you Logan?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm looking for you."

He stared at me hard. "Do I know you?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

"Then why are you lookin' for me?"

"I see things, visions, and for over a month I've been seeing you. I don't know why, but for some reason you're different from the rest. I've seen you more than anyone else. I know this may seem really odd, I'm some strange teenage girl in an ally in the middle of a rainstorm telling you that I've been having visions of you, but it's the truth."

"Kid, I think you hit your head a little too hard and you need to go home."

"No, just listen to me; I need your help…please."

"What do you want from me, huh? I ain't got a lot of money and I ain't charity. So what do you want?"

"Are you staying in Calgary for good?"

"No, why?" he said, looking slightly frustrated.

"I want you to take me with you. Just for a little while. I think that there's something that I either need to help you with, or that you need to help me with."

"Like what?"

"I don't know…but there's a reason for why I can't stop seeing you. Please, just help me."

"You don't even know me and you're willin' to get in a car and let me go anywhere with you? No. And do me a favor; don't go jumpin in any other strangers's cars either." There was a splitting pain still in the back of my head. I reached back to check it and when I pulled my hand back, my palm was covered in a mixture of blood and rainwater. He looked at me hand and swore. "Come on, follow me," he said, turning and walking down the ally.

I picked up my bag and then did as he said, walking closely behind him. He led me out onto and down a street, then down a series of about four others before we stopped outside of a motel. The neon light caught my eye. Most of the letters were out, leaving it only to say 'Elwod Mol' rather than 'Ellewood Motel'.

"How long have you been staying here?" I asked as he looked for the room key in the pocket of his jeans.

"Just checked in a few hours ago."

"Have you stayed here before?"

"No, why?" he said, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

"I saw that sign last night, but I didn't know what it was because the lights were missing."

"So?"

"I wasn't here last night. I was still sleeping in a parking garage."

He looked at me. "You're serious; you really see things like that?"

"Yeah, it's usually fine, but the past month has been really overwhelming."

We were both quiet for a moment as we both stared up at the broken neon sign. Finally, he moved and flipped on the lights of the small room. "Come in and let me check out your head."

I watched him walk into the room and was suddenly aware of how surreal the moment was. The man whom I had been seeing in my visions for so long was actually there. I was no longer seeing him from another person's view, but from my own. Everything seemed to rush at me all at once and after a week of focusing all of my energy on finding him, there he was and I didn't know what to do. I thought that once I met him I would immediately understand, but I didn't and the realization that I had actually run away began to sink in. Although I had been planning to go home once I had found out what was special about him, it was then that I thought that perhaps my parents wouldn't let me come back. It was then that I felt scared for the first time since I had left home.

"Hey, I'm not gonna' hurt you or anything, I'm just gonna' check your head and see if it's still bleedin'."

"I know, I'm sorry," I said, walking into the small, dingy room and shutting out the rain and wind as I closed the door behind me.

"Sit on the bed," he ordered, jabbing a finger at the nearly stripped bed. The bedspread had been taken off and I held back a smile. I thought that I was the only one who wouldn't sleep under those things.

I dropped my bag in the floor and sat down on the bed as he entered the bathroom. I slipped out of his too large jacket and heard the water start running behind me. After a moment he came out with a wet two and began to examine the back of my head.

"How long've you been lookin' for me?" he asked.

I gritted my teeth and the new sting of pain from on by him touching the gash in the back of my head. "I left a week ago."

"From where?"

"California."

"How'd you know how to find me?"

"I saw that you were fighting in bar here in Calgary. I thought you were up further north than this, but this morning I realized you weren't," I said, sucking in a sharp breath at another shot of pain. "I was thinking about going home until I saw you come out of that bar."

"You were gone for only a week and thought about goin' home?" he said with a small laugh. "You look like you're gonna' need stitches."

"Is it _that _bad?"

He brushed a finger over the wound again and I flinched. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I don't want to go to a hospital; if I'm not going to bleed to death then I think I'd rather just leave it alone."

"Well here, keep this on it until it stops bleedin'," he said, pressing the damp towel against the back of my head, forcing me to hold it there myself.

He walked from behind me over to his bag in the corner of the room. As he walked past me, I caught a glimpse of what he had seen when I fell.

He had known that I was there. He could hear me. Smell me. And there was a fleeting thought that my scent was familiar, thought he wasn't entirely sure where he knew it from. He thought about turning around to ask who I was, but he had been fighting all-night and decided to just go to the motel to sleep. He began heading down the ally when he heard me stand. He heard me take a step. Then we heard me slip and fall. He heard my head hit hard against the ground. He turned around and ran to me. He crouched down, speaking to me and asked if I could hear him. That's when I woke up.

"You thought you knew me," I stated, once I was back in my present mind.

He turned to look at me from where he had been taking out some of his clothes from his bag. "What?"

"When you left that bar, you knew that I was there and you thought that you knew me. How?"

"Are you readin' my mind?" he asked, looking almost mad.

"No, I'm not – I can't – but when you walked past me, I saw what happened a little while ago. What you saw. Why did you think you knew me?"

"I don't know, something about your scent's familiar."

"But you don't remember where you know it from?"

He stared at me. "No. My memory's been a little fuzzy over the past few years, and I ain't even sure if I do know it or if it just reminds me of something."

"Or someone."

"Yeah, whatever. Keep that towel on your head. I'm gonna get in the shower, don't steal anything."

"I wasn't planning on it.

"Good." He then left and went into the bathroom once again, closing the door behind him. After a minute, I heard the water in the shower start.

I stood, still holding the towel firmly against my head, and began to look around. The room was small; the light was dim and yellowed in color, making the room feel cold and eerie. The smell was musky and I wondered how Logan could stand it. I knew he was a mutant, I knew he had claws, but I also knew that his senses were amazing. The smell was nearly nauseating for me; it had to be terrible for him.

I walked from the bed to the window and pulled back the curtains to look out at the rain. I saw a flash of lightening in the sky. The storm was getting close and I was less than excited at the prospect of having to go back out in it once my head stopped bleeding.

I had gone over my meeting with Logan in my head more times than I could keep track of, and yet I hadn't thought our meeting would take place how it had. Nor had I thought of the fact that he may not believe or want anything to do with me. I had just assumed that we would spend a few days together, I could figure out what was so special about him and I could go home, without having to worry about overwhelming visions. But it wasn't going the way I had planned. I was going to be dumped back out on the streets and having to find a way back home, hoping that my parents would let me come back. They had, after all, assumed that I was crazy and called for an intervention. Making me sit and listen to a doctor I had never met try to tell me that what I saw, what I claimed to be visions, were just delayed results of being abandoned by my birth parents as a child. I had never known my real father, but my mother kept me until I was three, but couldn't take care of me anymore. She gave me away because she knew that someone else could give me a better life. It was a sacrifice I could never fully understand until I have children of my own. My mother didn't abandon me, she gave me a life, and I knew that what I saw had nothing to do with her, but they thought it did.

When I decided to leave, I barely had twenty dollars of my own money. I knew I couldn't get anywhere with that and so I took three hundred dollars from my parents. Then I left. I had 'run away' quite a few times as a child, as I'm sure most kids have at one point in their life. You pack a bag, you go down the street and wait until it gets dark before finally going back. But for the first time in my life, I had kept going down the road and didn't look back. It was strangely liberating to know that I could leave that easily, but terrifying in the same right.

I love my parents, don't get me wrong, they've taken care of me when I didn't have anyone else to do that for me. But there was something about me that never quite felt attached to them. There was always something inside of me that told me to go through the motions, but to never really get close to anyone. Like a mantra, it would repeat itself in my mind over and over again; _You don't need anyone else, you just need you_. Maybe that's why I had been so upset when I had first began having so many visions of Logan. I knew that one of us needed something from the other, and there was a fifty percent chance that it was me who needed something from him. That would mean that I needed _him_ and I didn't like the thought of that.

There was another flash of lightening that jarred me from my thoughts and I saw the lights in the room flicker. I took the towel from my head and checked the status of the wound. I had to squint in the dim, blinking light to see, but I could tell that it had slowed to a near stop. But it needed to be cleaned. The rain and ally water probably wasn't too good for the healing process.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to stand by a window while it's stormin'?" I turned around and saw Logan emerging from the bathroom in sweatpants and a wife beater. "How's your head?"

"It's almost stopped bleeding."

"Good. If you're gonna' get in the shower, I suggest you do it before the power goes out."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked a little confused.

"Thought you might wanna' clean up and put on some dry clothes before you go to sleep."

"You're going to let me stay with you?"

"I'm not gonna' put you out in the storm. You can sleep on the couch for tonight. Then you can do whatever you want in the mornin', I don't care."

"Thank you," I said, walking to my bag and picking it up. I began walking to the bathroom when I realized something. "Oh, my name is-"

"Don't. We do the name thing and I might feel a little bad about makin' you leave tomorrow. I doubt it, but I'd rather not take the chance." There was a hint of a smirk on his face and I hated him.

I hated that I couldn't get him out of my head.

I hated the fact that I recognized the sarcasm in his voice from my own.

I hated that I needed him.

But more that all that, I hated that even though I needed him, he was willing to set me on a door step the first chance he could get out without having to feel guilty about doing so.

"Right, silly me," I said dryly, entering the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I dropped my bag in the floor and began peeling off the damp layered shirts from my body. I had intended for them to keep my warm, but instead they had only managed to keep me cold with their chilled dampness.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and was shocked to see how I looked. My dark brown hair was matted and twisted from everything it had endured in the past week. It hung damp and sadly around my face, drawing attention to the dark under eye circles I had, making my hazel eyes seem shallow and tired.

My normally tan skin took on a sickly look to it under the yellow lighting, and I could see a few bruises beginning to surface on my back and arms.

I didn't look myself as I took in my surroundings and situation. I didn't feel myself either. Instead, I felt scared and unsure.

I finished undressing and turned on the water in the shower. I'm embarrassed to admit that it was my first shower since leaving home and the hot water quickly chased away all of the chill bumps on my skin.

I washed my hair thoroughly, wanting to get out of the oil, gutter water, and blood. I wanted to wash away my pessimistic thoughts down the drain with it. I tried to scrub away all of my fears, but I couldn't. I only managed to make my skin pink and raw. That's when I started crying.

There was no doubt that I was a mutant, but what if I was crazy, too? I was in Canada, crying in the shower of some stranger's motel room. Although it might not have screamed insane, it wasn't exactly the best argument for my sanity, either.

I just wanted for something to start making sense to me. I didn't want to feel unsure anymore, but it seemed the only thing I had ever been sure of was that I had to find Logan. I stopped crying long enough to laugh at the absurdity of that. I didn't know him from Adam, I only knew his name from hearing him being called it in my visions, and yet I had possibly thrown away my future for him. A man who was refusing to even let me tell him my name. I allowed myself the thought of giving up, of going home or anywhere that would have me, but I knew that wasn't what I was supposed to do.

I turned off the water and left the comfort of the warm shower to prepare for the chilly reception I was sure to get from Logan once I left the bathroom.

Admittedly, I did feel much better once I was cleaned up and into some dry clothes. I took advantage of the bathroom and running water and brushed my teeth while I was in there. I then took my hair down from its towel and combed my fingers through it. Although I still looked tired, I was at least clean and that made me feel somewhat better.

When I went back into the main room again, I saw that the TV was turned on and Logan was sitting on the couch watching it.

I carried my bag to where it had been before and stood there awkwardly in the room, staring at both him and the TV. One of the Three Stooges movies was playing.

"You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch," he said, not bothering to look away from the screen.

"But I thought you said-"

"Do you wanna' sleep on the couch?"

"I don't care honestly, as long as it's not concrete."

"Good. Since you don't care, you get the bed."

"Thank you," I said quietly, going to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. I watched the TV for a moment, watching as Shemp tried to fight against a boxer, but was too scared to actually fight him. I had forgotten why they were supposed to be fighting; it had been a long time since I had seen the movie. "I always liked Shemp."

"I would've thought you were more of a Curly person."

"Everyone likes Curly. Except my dad, his favorite is Larry."

He grunted. "No one likes Larry."

"That's what I told him."

"He know where you're at?"

"I'm eighteen, it doesn't matter."

He finally looked at me, cocking one of his eyebrows. "Is that a 'no'?"

"Yeah."

He turned his eyes back to the TV. "Now that you found me, you gonna' go back home?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"My parents don't know that I'm a mutant. They think that the visions I'm having are related to some emotional problem like Child Abandonment Syndrome, because my birth mother gave me up for adoption when I was three. They want me to go to doctors and have tests done. I can't go back home until I get them under control. I think you can help me do that."

"I honestly don't know."

"Why don't you just tell them what's goin' on? Seems easier to me than runnin' away and huntin' down a complete stranger."

"They're really not fans of…people like us. Besides that, it's not just them; it's me. I've been seeing things for as long as I can remember, I'll have visions ten, twelve times a month, but with you, there were fifty, sixty of them. Some were long, some were short, but I couldn't stop them. I think you can."

"Why?"

"Again, I really don't know," I said as thunder rolled through above the motel, the lights flickering once again. My head was pounding like never before and everything that had happened in the past hour and a half was just adding to it. He was supposed to help me, and yet I didn't know how, which just added to my frustration, making the pain in my head even worse. "I don't know, I don't know," I muttered, cradling my head in my hands. My tears from earlier were threatening to come back and I had to fight to keep them away. I looked back up and saw him staring at me.

Have you ever shared a moment with someone where you just know that you're connected deeper than that moment? There was no sudden revelation, nothing was clear, I knew no more then than I had two hours previously, but when I looked up and my eyes met with his, something clicked and everything changed. I felt something I had never felt before.

"And what did you feel?" Dr. Lewis asked, pulling me from my story.

"I don't know how to explain it. Growing up I knew that I didn't belong in my family, I didn't fit it, and I accepted that I never would there. But I had spent my life chasing after a feeling, an emotion, a connection that I could never explain, but knew existed, and in that moment, I finally found what I had been looking for. Even though it was short, probably only a few seconds, it was enough. I knew it wouldn't stop the vision, it wasn't going to make my situation any easier, but it nothing else, that moment along was worth the time spent getting there, no matter how short and fleeting it may have been."

"If you had spent so long searching for this feeling, then why was it so short lived? Why would you end it so soon?"

I gave a small laugh. "I assure you, had I had a choice in the matter, it wouldn't have ended so soon. Especially not the way it did."

I looked at Logan, staring at me, and I noticed that he wore the same expression as he did when looking at a girl he knew. I didn't know her name, only that she had brown hair with two white streaks and that he cared a lot about her. Not that he cared about me, he didn't know me, but she had looked around me age and I assumed that he saw her sitting there in my situation. Whatever the reason, as my eyes burned from fighting tears, from being tired, and distraught, I let them go. I allowed myself to cry for a moment, though neither of us took our eyes off the other or spoke a word. That's when the news bulletin on TV caught both of our attentions.

"Earlier this week we broke news about the American teenager that had reportedly ran away from home," the middle-aged newswoman said as a photo of me appeared on screen. "Last weekend, after an argument with her parents over the state of her mental health, eighteen-year-old Jayden Rivers left in the middle of the night. After airing the story, we received several phone calls reporting that viewers had seen her here in Northern Alberta, while nearly all of the calls received have been from Calgary. If you have seen or have any news of missing American teen Jayden Rivers, please contact your local police or new station. We will update on this story as it develops. Now back to your program, already in process."

That was it. I knew that if there was ever a chance that he might have changed his mind and allowed me to go with him; he wouldn't after that.

"Thank you for helping me and letting me stay here for the night, but I'm tied so I think I should get some sleep. After tomorrow I'll leave and you won't have to worry about me anymore," I said quietly. "I'm sorry for causing you any trouble."

Sharing a room with a stranger was the last thing on my mind as I fell asleep that night. He was the safest I had felt in a long time and all I was thinking of was that after that night, I didn't know what I was going to do.


	2. Out of My Head

Disclaimer: If I owned rights to Marvel or Fox I would probably do more with my time than write fan-fiction. Like go on vacations to Hawaii and drive around in big expensive cars. Sadly, I don't own rights to either of them. Oh well.

Side note: I hope ya'll enjoy this story. I started it three different times, and wrote four or five different endings. I hope it was worth it. Please enjoy!

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I woke to the sound of rain crashing against the roof and a throbbing pain in my head. I sat up in bed and saw that the TV was on. I looked over to my right and saw Logan sitting on the couch, watching it.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"It hurts a little, but I think it'll be fine."

"Good. You hungry?"

"Uh…yeah, actually, I am."

"There's some stuff on the table, you can fix it yourself. I already ate, so get what you want."

I stood from the bed and walked to the small table only a few feet away. There was a box with three sausage biscuits in it and another half full of potato wedges. I took both boxes and carried them back to the bed, where I sat and watched the TV. There was another one of the Three Stooges movies on.

"Are the having a marathon or something?" I asked.

"Yeah, one of them was born or died today, or something."

"Do you know how many Stooges there were?"

"Yeah," he said, giving me a sideways glances, "three."

"No, I mean over all, how many of them were there altogether."

"Five."

"Wrong."

"What do you mean 'wrong'? There were give of 'em."

"There were six."

He looked over at me, abandoning his interest in the movie for the time being. "Larry, Moe, Curly, Shemp and Joe. That's it."

"There was one more."

"Who?" I just smiled and began eating one of the biscuits. "Who's the other one?"

"If everyone always gave us the answers to everything, then we would never have to think for ourselves, would we?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Eat up kid; we're leavin' in an hour."

I stopped. "What?"

"I'm checkin' out of this place in an hour, so we gotta' leave."

"We?" I asked timid and curiously.

"We, me and you, gotta' be outta' here by then. Whatever you do after that is up to you."

We sat quietly as I ate my breakfast. "You take me with you, and I'll tell you the name of the other Stooge," I said with a sad smile.

"That might work if there _was_ another one." I let out a small, sad laugh at him. "You ever been here before?"

"Where, Canada?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, the only time I had ever been outside of California was when I lived with my real mother here. After my parents adopted me, they became sort of over protective and so I didn't get to really go anywhere. Even in state."

"Are you scared?"

"By what, being on my own or being up here without knowing where I'm going?"

"Both."

I thought for a moment. "Not really. I thought I would, and probably should be, but honestly, I've always felt on my own anyway. And being here… I mean, I don't know what I'm going to do and that's a little scary I guess, but I was never comfortable just sitting still. I would get antsy, feeling like I was trapped, caged inside my own house. There were times when I felt like I couldn't breathe and all I wanted was to run away from it as fast as I could. I wanted to move and to be free, and not have to worry about other people. So no, I'm not scared; it's actually a bit of a relief, really."

"So you're not gonna' go back home?"

"I don't think I can. Even if I could get over needing to move, like I said last night; unless I can get these visions under control my parents are just going to continue to think that I'm crazy."

"So? Why do you care what anyone thinks about you?"

"I don't really, but I'd rather no have to argue my sanity with anyone," I said. "I do that enough with myself."

"_Are_ you crazy?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no."

He was quiet for a while. "Last night when I said I would give you money for a room, you said you had money."

"Yeah."

"So why were you stayin' in a parkin' garage? You have money, why not get a room?"

"Because I was saving it for when I met you."

"Were you plannin' on paying to hitch a ride with me?"

"If that's what it was going to take."

"So now that you don't have to worry about that, you gonna' stay somewhere inside?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Good."

* * *

Less than an hour later, we had both dressed, gotten all of our things together and were leaving the motel room.

The storm the night before had done some damage. Leaving debris littering the streets, which were flooding with two inches of rainwater easily, and growing. Branches and small trees blocked paths in the road. Overhead, the clouds were still dark, looming menacingly, threatening to open up and pour rain down upon us all once again, but instead it just continued to drizzle.

I looked from the sky to Logan, who was throwing his bag into his truck and I panicked. He couldn't leave. What if I couldn't stop my visions and I couldn't find him again? I watched as he closed the door and walked over to where I was standing in front of the motel room.

"Here, you'll need it later," he said, handing me a hundred dollar bill. "Be careful kid, and good luck."

He turned and walked back to his truck and left. I felt my last bit of hope slip as I watched him drive away.

* * *

Over a week after Logan left, I was no better off than to begin with. If anything, I was worse. I could barely sleep, each time I tried; I would see him. Always fighting. Always in the same bar. When I wasn't sleeping, it wasn't much different. I saw him constantly. I couldn't take it and decided that if I was going to keep seeing him, I might as well do it at home. I decided to call my parents to ask them if I could come back.

It was raining. Still. I pulled on my old army jacket that my uncle had given me years before and ran across the street from the motel where I was staying in, to the phone booth on the over side. Once inside, I dialed my parent's number and prayed for answer. After two rings, I got one.

"Hello?" I heard my father answer.

"Dad?"

"Jayden? Sweetheart, where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm find dad. I'm good."

"Where are you, baby? Please come home, we miss you."

"I miss you, too. And mom."

"We've been so worried about you."

"I know, I'm really sorry," I said, right before my sight shifted, went blank and then readjusted itself as I began to have another vision. It was of Logan and that same girl that was around my age. He was leaving for Canada and she had gone to tell him bye.

"How long are you gonna' be gone?" she asked, standing in front of him in what appeared to be a garage.

"I don't know, a few months. I just gotta' get out and do some thinkin'."

"About Jean?"

He let out a deep breath. "Yeah."

"I don't know if I ever told you, but I'm really sorry. I know you really cared a lot about her." He offered her a nod. "You goin' up north again?"

"Yeah."

"Are you gonna' pick up anymore hitch-hikers or do I get to be special and be the last one?"

"To be quite fair, I didn't pick you up; you stowed away in my trailer," he said and she smiled. "Don't worry; I won't pick up anyone else, alright? You were the last one, and see how much trouble you got me into?"

She smiled again. "You know, you can call or write whenever you want, I wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, I'll try," he said. "Come here, give me a hug."

She hugged him. "I don't want you to leave again."

"Hey, listen to me, no matter where I go, or how long I'm gone, I'm always gonna' come back for you, alright? I just gotta' get some things figured out and I'm gonna' be back Marie, I promise you, okay?"

"Yeah, alright," she said, pulling away from him.

"Be good kid, take care of yourself and if any boys try to get you in any trouble, you let me know and I'll take care of 'em when I get back, alright?"

She smiled. "Okay."

He pulled her back to him and kissed her on top of her head. "I'll see you when I get back."

"Bye Logan."

"Bye."

That was it. The vision was over and when my sight shifted again and readjusted once more, I was back in the phone booth, phone to my ear and once again watching the rain fall hard and heavy against the Plexiglas case.

"Jayden, are you there? Jayden? Terry, I don't think she's there," I heard my father say.

"Dad, I'm here."

"Jayden, _where_ are you?"

"I'm sorry daddy, I can't do this. I thought I could, I thought I could go home, but I can't. Tell mom I'm sorry and that I love her."

"No, sweetheart, don't go, just tell me where you are, please baby," he pleaded.

"I can't. You and mom chose not to believe me when I said that I wasn't crazy, so until you and her can believe me, then I can't come home, either."

"You need help, we can get it for you if you just home come."

"You can't get me the help that I need, because you don't get what I'm going through. I'm sorry, but this is something I have to do. I have to figure this out on my own. I have to go. Bye."

Hanging up wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I was focused and I knew what I had to do.

* * *

It took two days for me to find the right bar. It was some dive two hours outside of Calgary, and just how I had seen it every night for a week. Upon entering, I was greeted to the sound of loud, drunken men and woman, cheering and yelling, as well as the smell of beer and stale cigarette smoke. I saw the cage first, and then I saw him. He was wearing only his blue jeans and punching a man in the stomach before he head-butted him. The other man dropped to he mat and everyone cheered Logan. I didn't know why, but an extreme amount of pride welled up inside of me when I saw him win.

I spotted the bar and went to sit. It was nearly midnight and I didn't know when the fights would end. I figured it would be easier to just sit and wait. So I did. For two and a half hours. When the firsts were done, he dressed and came to the bar, sitting on the opposite end than me. I paid for my tab and walked over to him.

"You followin' me?" he asked without turning around as I walked up behind him.

"Sort of. Can we talk?"

"Ain't that what we're doin' now?"

"Can I sit down beside you?"

"Do whatever you want."

I pulled out the stool beside him and sat down. "Is the only reason why you didn't take me with you because you promised Marie that you wouldn't pick up any other hitch-hikers while you were gone?"

He sat down the beer bottle that had been only an inch away from his mouth and looked over at me. "What?"

"She told you that she didn't want you to pick anyone else up while you were away. You promised you wouldn't. Is that why you wouldn't take me with you?"

"I don't know how you know about that, but it's none of your business. I didn't take you with me because it's not my problem that you see things, it's yours. And I'm not in the mood to drive around a teenage girl until you realize that it's not gonna' get better, it ain't gonna' stop, 'cause you're a mutant and you're just gonna' have to get used to the fact that we all have our problems, kid. I've got mind too, but I don't track down complete strangers in order to fix 'em. I do it myself."

"Yeah, so it was just a coincidence that you found some of the men who made you what you are and killed them, right?"

It was a good thing that looks couldn't kill or otherwise I would have keeled over, dead on the spot right then. No one had ever looked at me with as much anger as he did right then.

"You think you know me 'cause you've seen me a few times in some of your dreams?"

"No, I don't and I don't _want_ to see you. I don't want you to be in my head every day, every time I'm awake, or asleep. I want to be able to go back to how it was before I saw you, but I can't."

"Well what do you want from me?" he growled.

"I need you to _help_ me. It's not going to cost you anything to take me with you. If you don't want to talk, then we don't have to. You call all the shots, everything, I just need to know why you're different. I need to know _why_ I can't stop seeing you, because more than anything, more than you will ever know, I want you _out_ of my head. I don't like having to wake up in the middle of the night because I have to see some hellish nightmare that you lived through that involved people cutting you open and doing experiments on you. I'd rather not know what metal and blood tastes like. I don't want to know what it feels like to be electrocuted to the point where every other people should, and would, have died. I wish that I had never seen you because all you've done is caused me problems."

"Problems? Didn't I let you stay in my room, use my shower, sleep in my bed, feed you breakfast and give you a hundred dollars so you wouldn't have to sleep on the streets? Now, I'm thinkin' that I helped you out more than I had to darlin', 'cause I didn't have to do anything. I could have left you all by yourself in that ally, but I didn't. It's not my fault that you see what you do, I'm not doin' it to you, and I don't owe you anything. So why don't you just leave me alone, alright?"

I looked at him, not hiding my desperation. This was my last chance, if I couldn't talk him into it then, I never would.

"Please, just listen to me; I need you. I don't know why, but I do. I've never needed anyone before and I've never wanted to. I know that you don't owe me anything, I know that it's not your fault that I see what I do, but I'm begging you, _please_ help me. I don't know what to do and when you asked me before if I was scared, I know that I said I wasn't, but I lied. I am absolutely terrified. I have never been so scared or unsure of anything in my entire life."

"Which is what, eighteen years? You gotta' lotta' years to be scared and unsure, kid, get used to it."

"I know that, but what I'm saying is that all I'm sure of is that some how we're connected and I don't know why. I know that this is none of your business, I'm not your problem, but please, _help_ me," I pleaded, tears running down my cheeks. "_Please_." He looked away from me and took a sip of his beer. He didn't say anything; he just looked straight ahead. I wiped away the tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt. The pride that I had felt when I had first seen him in the cage had dissolved, leaving only desperation and anger. He wasn't going to help me. "Alright, sorry to waste your time."

Leaving was hard, because once I left, I felt hopeless and scared. But I didn't know what else to do. He wasn't going to do anything, not that I really should have expected him to. He didn't know me and I know him from the visions that I had had of him. He was a longer who didn't like to settle in one place for too long. He didn't want people who needed him. I saw that. I felt that. I knew that. But I had also seen and knew how he felt about that girl, Marie. I knew that he cared about her and I thought that maybe he might take me with him because he could think of me as her. That if she were me, he would want someone to help her. I had bet too much on that and I was paying for it.

I left the bar and walked right out into the rain. I didn't care about getting wet; there were bigger things on my mind. I stood in the parking lot, getting soaked head to toe and I felt lost. As I said earlier, I had never truly felt like part of my family. I went through the motions, I called them my parents, I spent time with my grandparents, I had always been a good kid, but the truth was; it was all an act. I wasn't an upper class, preparatory school, ex-girl scout. I may have done those things and lived that way, but it wasn't me. But I didn't know who I was. The last person who did know me, who knew my past and knew who I was, had given me away. Nearly all of my life I had felt out of place, but I had never felt lost. Not until right at that moment.

I walked to the edge of the parking lot, to a lamppost and sat down on the ground, leaning back against the base of it. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, hugging them to my body. I rested my head on my knees and closed my eyes, but when I did, all I could see was Logan.

After I sat, I continued my crying from earlier. I needed to cry. I needed to get it all out so that I could get myself together and decide whether to go home and tell my parents that I was a mutant, or stay out on my own. Each wasn't without repercussions. I knew how my parents felt about mutants, but there was no way that I could go home with them believing that I was crazy. And after having Logan know that I was a mutant, I couldn't go back to lying about myself.

But if I didn't go home, I would have to find a place to live, a job, on top of all of that, I would have to deal with my visions that seemed to only get worse day by day. They would both be life-changing decisions and I knew that whichever one I picked would have to be it. I wouldn't get to go back and change it and I didn't know which I wanted more.

"You make a habit to sit outside when it's rainin'?"

I looked up and saw Logan standing beside me. "No, it's just that this rain won't stop," I said, noticing my teeth chattering from the cold for the first time.

"Come on kid, get up."

"Why? There's nowhere for me to go, I might as well stay here."

"You're not gonna' sit out in the rain and freeze to death, so get up."

I stood up beside him, a sheet of ice-cold rain falling down in the space between us. "Now I get to stand and freeze to death. This is so much better than sitting," I said dryly.

"Where's your stuff?" he asked, ignoring the blatant sarcasm in my voice.

"Here," I said, pointing to the green army bag at my feet.

"Get it and follow me."

I did as he said, slinging the bag onto my shoulder and following behind him as he walked through the flooding parking lot. Once we reached his truck, I stopped.

"If you were going to take me to my hotel room, I don't have one. So you might ought to just leave me here," I said.

He stopped and looked at me from where he was unlocking the passenger's side door. He cocked an eyebrow at me. "I'm not takin' you back to your hotel; you're goin' with me to mine. And what are you doin', why don't you have a room?"

"You're taking me with you?"

"Yeah, if you shut up and get in" he said, opening the door and motioning for me to get in.

"Thank you," I said, running to the truck and ducking inside as I climbed into the seat. He shut the door and then walked to the other side before climbing in himself.

"So, you know what you're getting yourself into?" he asked, looking at me.

I shook my head, rainwater rolling down my face from my hair. "I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

He started the truck and turned on the heater. "Good. Me either."


	3. Drawing It Even

Disclaimer: I don't any rights to anything...quite literally. In some of the reviews from my previous stories some people said that Logan was too soft. I tried to toughen him up a bit in this story, so I hope it worked out well. I'm just a sucker for him as a softie, though,I can't help it. Please enjoy.

* * *

"No wonder you got money; you don't stay in hotels and from the looks of it, you don't eat either," Logan said.

We were in his motel room. I had just taken a long, hot shower and was eating the leftovers from the dinner he had had earlier. It was a few ribs, and I was tearing them apart, trying to get every bite I could get out of them.

"Well I told you before; I was saving it for you."

"Yeah, well, forget about that. You better save it. When I go back south you're gonna' have to figure out what you're gonna' do, you'll need it."

"Where from the south do you live?"

"What, haven't you seen where I live, too?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, I mostly see the more dramatic things that you've gone though, or emotional at least. Nothing about where you live."

"I'm in between here and New York for the most part."

"Do you like it there?"

"It's alright, I guess," he said. "You like it here?"

"Yeah, I just wish it would stop raining."

"You miss your family?"

I shrugged as I wiped my hands on a napkin. "A little bit, I guess. Do you miss yours?"

He looked at me from where he was proper against the headboard of his bed. "No. I don't have one."

"What about that girl, Marie, isn't she your family?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well…do you miss her?"

He let out a deep breath and continued to flip through the channels on the TV. "A little, I guess," he answered reluctantly.

"She said you could call, have you?"

"No."

"Have you written her?"

"No."

I let out a small laugh. "Well if you miss her and she obviously misses you, than why haven't you contacted her yet?"

He stopped his channel surfing and looked at me. "What do you mean, she _obviously _misses me?"

"Well, she didn't want you to leave to begin with, so I'm just assuming that if she didn't want you to leave that badly, she must, obviously, miss you quite badly, too."

"She only says she doesn't want me to leave 'cause she thinks she has to."

"Are you serious? She's completely…taken with you."

His eyes flashed suddenly and his grip tightened on the remote. He swallowed hard. "We're just friends," he muttered, turning off the TV. "You okay with sleepin' on the couch for tonight?"

His change in attitude caught me off guard and I wondered if I had said something to offend him.

"Uh…yeah, it's fine."

"Good. When we stop in the next town we'll get a room with two beds," he said, standing from the bed and turning off the overhead light. "You better get some sleep, we gotta' lot of drivin' to do tomorrow."

I left the table and went over to the fold out couch. Logan had unfolded and made it while I had been in the shower, so all I had to do was climb under the covers.

I lay there for a few minutes, trying to get my head around what was going on. But the couch was more comfortable than any of the beds that I had been sleeping on and sleep was beckoning me, leaving me little time to think.

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, nearly gone with sleep.

"There's something about you that's familiar. Don't know what it is, but I figured while you're tryin' to get your stuff sorted out, I might as well, too."

"When we met before, you thought my scent was familiar, is that what it is still?"

"No, it's something about you. Now stop talkin' and go to sleep."

"Night."

"Night."

I curled up and began rocking myself back and forth, humming a song I didn't know the words or name to, as I did every night. I had been rocking and humming myself to sleep for as long as I could remember. It was always the same song, one that my mother had sang to me when I had belonged to her, but no one ever knew what it was. I didn't either. I didn't care. The melody soothed me and carried me away in its lullaby until I had fallen asleep. It was always as if while I was humming it, I kept what was left of my mother inside of me alive. It was as if she were there, holding me, and rocking me. With that being my last thought, I could always sleep. No matter where I was.

* * *

"Did you move my stuff?" I asked Logan, coming out of our motel bathroom.

"Yeah," he said, pulling on his boots.

"Why?"

"'Cause I had to shave and it was in my way."

"Well where is it?"

"Your bag."

I had been gone for over a month and with Logan for a little over two weeks. Although we had been with each other for a short period, all I had managed to get from our time together was some relief from my visions. While I was with him, they had gone back to almost being normal, Well, that wasn't _all_ I had gotten from him; I realized that we shared a lot of the same attitudes and ideas. That was new to me. Every time I had ever expressed my views or opinions to my family, they had always been shot down. Apparently, they were 'far fetched', 'pessimistic', or 'depressing' even. But Logan seemed to get me and I have to admit, after years of never knowing what if felt like, there were moments where I felt high from the feeling of a connection with someone.

I went back into the bathroom, picked up my bag and began rummaging through it until I found my hairbrush, toothbrush and makeup bag.

"Couldn't you have just moved it over a little; did you really need to shove it all in my bag?" I yelled out.

"No, I don't like for there to be crap everywhere while I'm tryin' to shave."

"Well, you're not on your own anymore, you've got a teenage girl with you now, so you'll have to get used to it."

"I'm payin', I don't have to get used to anything," he said. "Why do you need that stuff right now anyway; you're just stayin' in."

"Actually, I've decided to go out to get dinner tonight. I'm a little tired of staying in."

"You think that's a good idea?" he asked, appearing in the doorway, dressed and ready to leave.

"Yeah, I've been keeping up with the news. There's not been anything mentioned about me for about three weeks. Besides, I want to check everything out while it's not raining too badly, I don't know how much longer it'll stay like this," I told him, brushing through my hair. "Do you want me to bring you back some dinner since I'll be out?"

"No, I'll get something when I'm done."

"What time do you think you'll be back?"

"I don't know. Probably around three."

"Well, I hope you have fun beating drunken Canadians and taking their money."

He made a lot grunting sound that was meant to be a laugh. "I'm sure I will, I always do."

I smiled at him in the mirror. "Have you ever thought about getting a _real_ job?"

"Like what?"

I shrugged as I moved to putting on makeup. "I don't know, but I'm just thinking that since you have such a time having to track down bars that host cage fighting, it might be a bit easier if you could work out of one place at a time?"

"No fun in stayin' in one place all the time."

"All the time, no, but what about a week or two? Don't you get tired from all of the driving? That's pretty much all you do. Drive, fight, eat, sleep, then get up and drive some more."

"Hey, we've been here for three days."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, but when are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"See? Why don't you want to stay put for any longer than that? Who are you trying to run away from?"

His form visibly tenses as I watched him through the mirror. "No one," he said. "I've gotta' go, the fights start soon. Do me a favor and don't get in any trouble tonight, 'cause I ain't gonna' get you out of it."

I shook my head. "I wasn't planning on it, but since I know you won't help me out of it, I'll be sure to be on my best behavior," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Remember kid; stay away from strangers," he said, winking at me in the mirror.

I stopped, turned around and looked at him. "You're a stranger and I'm living with you."

"And you probably should've stayed away from me."

"Probably so," I said before he turned and left the bathroom. As I heard him open the motel door, I turned and watched him from the doorway. "Hey, you know that you can call me by my real name, right?"

He looked at me. "I know, and I will when you tell me the name of the other Stooge."

I laughed. "Are you _still_ on about that? I thought you would have remembered it by now."

"I would, but there wasn't another one."

"So basically what you're saying is that you're _never_ going to call me by my real name?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he said with a bit of a smirk. "See you in the mornin'."

"Alright, be careful," I said.

He grunted out a reply before walking out the door, and like every night before, I was by myself.

* * *

It was ten o'clock that night by the time I had gotten dinner. As I was leaving the restaurant, walking back to the motel, I spotted a phone booth on the sidewalk. It had been over two weeks since I had last called home and I felt an overwhelming amount of guilt that I hadn't spoken to them since then. I entered the booth, knowing that it wouldn't matter if they knew where I was calling from; we were leaving again the next morning.

I picked up the phone, inserted the proper change and dialed my old home phone number. Five rings and then an answer.

"Hello?" my mother answered.

"Hey, it's me."

"Jayden? Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm find mom, I just wanted to call and talk to you."

"Where are you, why don't you come home? Your dad and I are so worried about you and we miss you so much, sweetheart."

"I miss you guys too, mom," I lied. "I told dad why I can't come home. I wish I could, but I've have a lot of stuff that I have to figure out before I can even think about it. Everything's really confusing right now and I need some space and time to think. I don't want you two to worry about me, I'm doing good, I'm being taken care of."

"By who?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know who they are?"

"We're working on it."

"Are you staying with them, is that where you're living right now? Did they let you use their phone?"

"Yeah, I'm staying with him, but I'm not using his phone. I'm calling from a pay phone."

"Him? You're staying with a man? Is that what this is about; you wanted to go live with some man?"

"No mom, it's…complicating. I want to explain, but I don't know how. He knows how to help me; I just need you to believe me on that, alright?"

"How? You left without telling us, you took three hundred dollars from your father, you've called home twice and now you're telling me that you're living with some man? How am I supposed to believe that you're okay and that he's really taking care of you?"

"Because you're my mother, and that's what you're supposed to do."

"I'm not your real mother; you know I can't do that Jayden."

That stung. "Please, can you just _try_ to believe me?"

"I want to believe that you'll come home, but every morning I wake up and you're not here, it gets harder for me. I don't know how to believe you."

"I've never done anything, you and dad know that. I've always been a good kid; I've never done anything wrong. I've never caused any problems…ever. I know that this is hard, I know that I shouldn't have left without telling you or took dad's money, but I…" I paused and looked around me.

Up and down the street, there were neon lights and signs. Some broken. Some flashing. Others were just being turned off, leaving their patch of the street without light. I felt like running to the darkened spots and hiding. Living in the shadows where no one could find me and I didn't have to deal with all of the things that I hated. I hated that I was always so perfect. I hated that I never broke the rules. I hated that I felt guilty for trying to help myself rather than just going along with what everyone else wanted. I hated that I was making excused for what I had done, when I didn't need to be making them.

"Mom, I'm sorry that I took the money from you and dad. I promise that when I can, I'll pay you back. But other than that, I'm not sorry for what I've done. Maybe running away wasn't the right thing to do. Maybe it was. I don't know yet, but I know that this is what I had to do. When I'm done, if you and dad don't want me to come back home, then I don't have to. You know I love you guys, you've raised me, you've been my parents since I was four. I barely remember anything before you. You've always done everything you could to get me the best education, you've taken care of me, you've given me everything that I've ever wanted. But this, _this_ is something I _need _and if you guys really love me then you'll believe me and support me. Either way, this is what I'm doing. I don't know how long this is going to take, I don't know that I'll _ever_ have it figured out, really, but I'm willing to devote my time to it because I am _not _crazy. And I'm sorry that you guys don't understand it, but neither do I. I just know that I have to do this. I hope that you can believe that. Goodbye mom."

While I had been speaking to my mother, a thought had come to me. One that I needed to talk out with someone. Someone that I could trust and knew but that didn't have invested interest in me. I needed to talk to Logan.

"And why was he the first person you thought of to talk to about this idea you had?" Dr. Lewis asked; peering at me from behind the glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose.

I let out a deep sigh and pulled my cardigan closer to me. I didn't like him interrupting my story. "He was the only person I knew who would give me his honest opinion. Out of the entire time that I knew him, he had been nothing but honest with me, even brutally so, and I knew that he would tell me what he really thought without worrying about giving me false hope or hurting my feelings. There was no one else that I knew of that could do that for me."

"No one? No one that you or your family knew that you could have called?"

I shook my head, causing strands of hair to fall lose from behind my ears and into my eyes. "No, he was the only one I trusted."

"But you barely knew him. How could you trust him?"

"I don't usually trust anyone. They use you, they hurt you, they leave you. I can't say why, because I don't know why, but I've never trusted anyone more than I trusted him. There was just something about him that when I saw him for the first time, it was like…" I stopped and shook my head, thinking.

"It was like what?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know. I just trusted him. I did from the moment I met him, or otherwise things wouldn't have gone the way they did when we first met."

"So what was this thought, or idea, that you needed to speak with him about?"

After hanging up with my mother, I walked to the bar where Logan was fighting. It took a good thirty minutes to get there, and by the time I reached the bar, there were already people falling over as they exited, having filled up and left early. A man stopped me at the door.

"You twenty-one?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied. He stared at me. "Dude, if you want proof, I'll show you proof, but if not, do you mind letting me in?"

He stared at me for a moment longer before he moved out of the way and let me enter the bar. I let out a small sigh of relief that he hadn't called my bluff and was little proud of myself that I had been able to bluff so well. However, in another way, I figured he probably knew I wasn't old enough but didn't care. Either way, I was just glad that he had let me in.

I searched the bar until I saw a small room off to the right side and could hear loud cheering coming from it as well. I decided that it must be where the cage was and walked straight to it. I was right. There was a small cage in the middle of the room and bleachers all around, making it look like an arena with two fighters on display. I watched as the fight ended with Logan kneeing a man in the stomach, causing him to fall face down on the mat.

I walked up to the corner of the cage where he was standing.

"What're you doin' here?" he growled at me.

"I need to talk to you."

"It can wait 'til I get back to the motel, I'm workin' now."

"Don't you take breaks or anything?"

He stared at me as he propped his arms against the cage above his head. He was as I had seen him every time when in a cage fighting; wearing nothing but his blue jeans. His hair looked messier than usual, and there was sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I get one in about an hour and a half, two hours, but it doesn't matter; I don't want you here. Go back to the motel."

"I'm not going to get into any trouble, but I really need to talk to you about something," I said. "It'll only take a few minutes away from your break and then I'll leave. Alright?"

"No, go back to motel now and we'll talk about it when I get done or in the mornin'."

The urgency of the topic had been so overwhelming from the time I had first thought of it. I was afraid that if I didn't talk about it right then, I would lose my nerve about it.

"What's wrong? Havin' a fight with the old lady? You're holdin' up the fights!" the fight announcer asked, stepping over towards Logan in the cage.

He turned his head around and bared his teeth, letting out a small growl. "Gimme' a second." He turned back to me. "Go back to the motel; we'll talk about it later."

"Alright, fine," I said, and then turned to leave.

I was anxious and thought that the walking might help, but as I walked out of the bar and got out on the street, the bottom dropped out and the rain began to pour. I looked up and saw lightening streak across the sky. Thunder rolled overhead and I felt it vibrate through the sidewalk.

"Freakin' great," I muttered to myself sarcastically and turned sharply on my heels to go back to the bar.

It would take me almost an hour to get to the hotel and if the weather intended to continue how it had been for the past few weeks, it wasn't going to let up any time soon. There was no way I was going to walk all the way back in that kind of weather, not without getting sick anyway. And so I went back. Even though Logan had told me to go to the motel, I figured that he would understand.

I ran back into the bar, passing by the exact same bouncer as before, who let me go right on through. Since I hadn't thought quickly enough to pull my hood up, my hair had gotten drenched and the rainwater was dripping, causing drops to go down my shirt, rolling down my back and making my whole body cold. I tried to wipe the rain from my face with the driest part of my shirtsleeve as I once again entered the room where the fighting was taking place. I stood off in a corner, trying to dry off some while also trying to stay out of Logan's sight for the time being.

"Hey, need help getting dry?" I heard a voice from behind me ask. It was low and gravely. I looked and saw some strange looking, middle-ages man standing beside me.

"No, I'm good."

"I bet you are," he said and I tired to ignore him. "Why don't we go somewhere a little more private and talk, sweetie? I guaranty it'll be worth your time."

"I some how doubt that, so no."

"I like the ones that play hard to get."

"Yeah, well, I'm not playing, so just go pester someone else. I bet the drunk chicks will love you."

"All the girls love me," he said, brushing the hair from my shoulder.

"Don't touch me," I snapped.

"Aw, come on now sweetie, it's just old Jackie Ray here, you don't have to be scared." He kept his hand at my shoulder and gripped it before he began to massage it. I felt his other hand against my back and I jerked away from him.

"I said don't touch me!"

"Come on now sweetie, it's alright," he said, grabbing my arm as he began to pull me with him, away from the crowd of people and towards a door at the back of the room.

"Dude, let go of me," I said, trying to pry his hand from my arm. But I couldn't. This was more serious than I thought. "Let go of me!" I planted both of my feet shoulder width apart and continued to try to loosen his grip from me like I had been taught when I was younger, but again to no avail. "Let go!" I yelled.

The few people who were near us and could clearly hear me, turned their heads and pretended that they couldn't. With the noise of the crowd in the background, they were the only ones who were going to be able to hear me and if they weren't going to help me, then no one was.

I took one of my feet and kicked him in the back of his knee. He swore and called me a name, then grabbed both of my arms and began shoving me towards the door.

"Let go of me!" I yelled once again. "Someone help me!"

He continued to move me to the back of the room as I continued to fight him. Even as I continued to yell for him to let go and for help, no one could hear me and I knew it. In the matter of seconds, I was filled with sickness of fear and dread. A sickness that began to fight its way to the surface the longer I fought with him, but knew that he was too much stronger than I was. A sickness that I couldn't control and so as he pushed me, I began vomiting. I had been scared to the point of losing control of my own bodily functions.

"Hey, what's your problem? Watch the shoes!" he said.

I heard the crowd irrupt into a round of boos and within seconds, I felt his hold on me go as someone pulled him from me. I was bent over, still sick, when I saw that Logan had the man, Jackie Ray, up against the wall, punching him in the stomach. He kneed him in the groin before pushing him onto the floor. I heard his nose break as he shoved his face into my vomit, holding his head in place with his foot. I heard him begin to sob slightly as he struggled with his own new sickness from being hit in the gut and groin as well as the taste of his blood and my vomit. Logan then moved his foot, bent down and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulled his head up.

"Please, I didn't mean to hurt her, I just wanted to have some fun," he cried as he chocked and sputtered from the tastes in his mouth.

"Well, ain't that funny 'cause that's exactly what I'm doin'," Logan said, banging his head into the concrete floor. When he pulled him back up again, he spit, causing blood and two teeth to pour from his mouth. "You scared? Hm? You know how she feels now?" he asked, shoving his face into the floor once again and I heard more sounds of bones or teeth breaking. I had since stopped throwing up and was watching, shaking, from where I stood. Few times had I seen Logan with this much intense rage and anger, but never had I witnessed it first hand. His eyes looked as if they had gone black as his whole body shook and radiated pure anger. He lifted the man's head up once again. "You better start bein' careful who you're messing with, 'cause you see that girl? She's mine. She's with me and you screw with her, then you screw with me. And let me tell you something, this ain't nothing. I could kill you pretty easy and I'm thinkin' awful hard about it. So, you got anything to say that might change my mind?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't going to hurt her; I just wanted to have some fun. That's all I wanted. I didn't know she was yours. I'm sorry, please don't kill me," he cried.

"Sorry bub, ain't buyin' it," Logan said. "Close your eyes kid."

I did as he said and heard a 'snikt' sound before the one of flesh being impaled that followed. I covered my ears to try to drown out the screams of the man whom Logan was stabbing with his claws.

I'm sure that there were other sounds at that time, but all I could hear was the man's screams of pain and Logan's grunts as he continued to stab, extract his claws and then stab him once again. All I could hear was the last gasping breaths that left him and the sick sound of his body smacking again the floor, wet with his own blood.

Then it stopped. I couldn't hear anything. And the silence was so overwhelming and loud that it made my ears ring with pain. But I didn't dare move my hands or open my eyes, for fear of what I might see. Then I felt a hand on my arm.

"Keep your eyes close and hold on to me. I'm gonna' get us outta' here," Logan told me.

I did as he said and held on tightly to his hand with one of mine and his upper arm with the other. I kept my eyes closed until I felt the violent pounding of the rain coming down on me once again. At that time, I opened my eyes, but still held tightly to Logan. I followed behind him, shaking in part by the cold rain and in part by how scared I still was.

He led me to the side of the bar where the parking lot was. When we reached his truck, he unlocked my door and directed me into the seat, slamming the door shut. My teeth chattered together as I continued to shake. He barely had enough time to close his door before he had the engine started and was speeding out of the lot.

"What were you doin' there? I told you to go back to the motel. Why didn't you listen to me?" he growled out.

"I'm sorry. It was storming when I left and I didn't want to walk back to the motel in the rain. I thought it would be okay if I just stayed there until it lightened up a bit. I didn't think you would mind. I thought it would be okay, I thought _I_ would be okay. I'm sorry," I said, too shocked to even cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, a scowl still spread across his face. He let out a string of swearwords, muttering under his breath. We had been driving for a while before I even looked over at him. He had blood on his hands and blue jeans. I didn't know how much was his and how much was the other man's.

"You killed him, didn't you?" I asked, only just realizing it.

He kept his eyes on the road. "Yeah."

"Why?"

He turned his head and glanced at me quickly. "_Why_? Do you know what he was gonna' do to you?" he asked, his voice rising. I didn't say anything. "Do you?" he yelled. "He wasn't gonna' just take you back and talk to you. He didn't wanna' have a nice little chat with you, kid."

"I know; he was going to hurt me."

"It wasn't like he was gonna' smack you around a little bit, you'd be pretty freakin' lucky if that was all. He was gonna' rape you and leave you, then you'd be screwed up and all alone."

"But you _killed_ him."

"You didn't want me to? You were scared, and I did what I had to do."

"How do you know how scared I was?" I snapped, finding that the only emotion my brain was willing to register right then was anger.

"Well for one, you were pukin' all over yourself and him. And two, I could smell it. There were over a hundred people there, all kinds of smells in the air, and I could smell your fear from the cage. Now I could be wrong but I'd say you were pretty scared."

"But you _killed_ him," I repeated. "You didn't have to do that. You could have just beaten him up and left him, but instead now there's a dead guy lying in a bar back there and you've got his blood on your clothes."

"Yes, I had to, and you know why? 'Cause if I didn't, he wouldn't have stopped. It would have been some other girl, some other night and she wouldn't've had anyone to help her. I might do some pretty bad thing, but I don't do that and people like him deserve to die. And no one's gonna' care abut a dead guy they found in a bar, 'cause no one's gonna' be willin' to tell what happened. You think the ones who heard you yellin' for help and ignored you are gonna' be tellin' the police what really happened? 'Cause I don't. And even if they do, I don't care. We're leavin' as soon as we get to the motel. Maybe next time you'll actually listen to me when I tell you to do something and I won't _have_ to kill anyone."

"I'm sorry, I just didn't want to walk back by myself in the rain," I muttered quietly, resting my head against the window and silently began to cry. My anger quickly dissolved, leaving me feeling scared, nervous and on edge. At that point, all I knew to do was cry. "I want my momma," I said as we pulled into the parking lot of our motel.

"You read to go home?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"You want her to come get you?"

I shook my head again. "No, I want my real momma. I miss her." I sat up in my seat and dried the tears from my face.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since I was three. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. When you needed to find those men who did all that stuff to you, how did you find them?"

He stopped the truck and pulled the keys from the ignition. "There's a guy I know, he's a professor and he owns the school I was stayin' at. He's psychic."

"Do you think…he would help me? I was just thinking think if I could find her then I might…understand some things about me. And I think that that might help me understand my powers. Maybe I could stop seeing things, that way I could leave you alone and wouldn't have to bother you anymore," I said, still wiping at the tears of my face.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do."

"I've got to get my stuff together and then we can leave. It'll only take me a few minutes."

He let out a deep sigh. "I need a shower and you need to get out of those wet clothes so you don't get sick. We'll just go ahead and stay here for the night. We'll leave in the mornin'."

"Okay."

We both say, neither one of us moving, neither one of us speaking, for about five minutes. The rain fell hard and heavy again the hood of the truck, with the sound of thunder rolling over head and the lightening flashing high across the sky, lightening up the space around us. Sitting there, I felt as if we were the only two people alive. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. If it was comforting or sad. Welcomed or lonely. Living with a good family in a good neighborhood nearly all of my life, I had never truly been face with the realities of the real world. But sitting there, so far from home for so long, in a truck with a man that I didn't actually know, who had just killed another man, I felt it hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me to drown under it weight.

"Thank you," I whispered, staring straight ahead.

"For what?"

"I don't know, just everything. For saving me tonight, letting me stay with you. You were right; I was scared tonight. I was terrified, I still am. To risk sounding like a pampered brat, I've pretty much had everything taken care of for me. I never had to feel scare a day in my life with my parents, but since I left…I'm not scared when I'm with you, I don't know why, but I'm not. Just…you don't know me. I've done nothing but caused you problems since you've met me, so just…just thank you. For everything."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're even then."

I looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"That night in the bar, when I decided to take you with me, you said that your visions of me had caused you nothing but problems," he said, looking at me. "Now we're even."

I forced a small smile and shook my head. "I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to what?"

"Cause you problems."

"You're just makin' the score even."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

Although my initial intention was not to make us even, I couldn't argue with the fact that I had done just that. It was only a matter of time before I knew he would get tired and leave me. I just didn't know when it would be.


	4. Echoes of Pain

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even my own pride anymore. I slipped and fell while shopping today and injured myself something pretty. My foot's killing me and I can't really walk on it much. But at least I have an excuse to sit and type up another chapter. I hope ya'll enjoy the story!

Sidenote: I want to thank katemary77 for informing me that I had misspelled the title of my story. That should be fixed now. Also, I wanted to thank everyone for the reviews so far. I get so nervous when I write because I never know what ya'll will like or hate. Like with 'Family Portrait', it's my highest viewed story to date and I nearly stopped it about three chapters in because I didn't know if it was any good or not. So, if ya'll like it, please drop a tiny review to let me know if you do. Or even if you don't, drop one and tell me what you hate. Just so I can know in the future... Yes, I'm stalling, now on with the story!

* * *

I didn't know who she was, this Jean, but I had seen her in a number of my visions. She meant something to all of them, but to him in particular. She meant a lot to Logan.

I see them, in a jet, there's a man I had seen only once before and he's screaming 'no'. I don't know if it's because of the situation or because Logan keeps repeating that she's gone, over and over, and he's near crying. They both stand there, Logan saying that she's gone and the other man, Scott, he keeps screaming 'No, we'll get her back, we'll get her back' before he falls against Logan, crying. I hear someone reciting The Psalm of David, but I never see who, and then I see this man Scott, fall to the floor. Logan stumbles back into a seat, all the while mumbling that she's gone. Both are crying. I see his face, I look into his eyes and it's as though right then, everything had been taken from him and he had nothing left.

And that's when I woke up.

Broken sunlight spilled in across my bed from the window, leaving a streak of white to lay across my legs as I sat up with a gasp. My head was pounding and I grabbed it to try to stop the pain. Although the vision was gone, I could still hear the echoes of the screams in my head.

"Hey Marie, I'm gonna' have to call you back later, darlin'… Alright, bye," I heard Logan say, hanging up the phone. "Hey kid, you alright?"

"Make it stop. I don't want to hear it anymore, just make it stop," I pleaded, the voices screaming louder.

'_Jean's dead.'_

'_Don't you say that!'_

He pulled my hands away and replaced them with his. He sat down in front of me and looked straight into my eyes, reminding me of the first night we met. "Can you hear me?" he asked. I shook my head 'yes'. "All right, listen to me; just me, okay? Whatever you're hearin' ain't real, it ain't here. I'm the only on talkin' right now." I couldn't stop the tears and closed my eyes to try to focus. "Come on kid, it's just me, listen to _me_."

'_She's gone. She's gone. She's gone.'_

It felt as if there was a large amount of pressure being pressed against my brain and with each scream I heard, each echo in my mind, it felt as if the pressure doubled. I wanted to scream out in pain, in a sort of horror over the agony in the sounds of their voices, but when I opened my mouth, all I could do was gasp and whimper.

"Come on kid, listen to _me_, not else, alright? No one else is here."

"It hurts, I want it to stop. Make it stop!" I cried, gritting my teeth.

"Just listen to me. Listen to my voice, Jayden!"

It stopped. All the voices, all the pain, all of the pressure, in a split second, it was gone. All of it.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. When I saw him, I don't know why, but I hugged him. And I don't know why, but he let me. I buried my face into his shoulder and cried. Over the past few years, I had gotten used to having visions, and with him, emotional ones. But out of all of the ones that I had had, that was the only one that had stayed with me after it had ended. Never before had one ever hurt. But that one did and I was scared to think that soon, they may all be like that one. However, as he held me, the fear soon faded. I couldn't be scared with him.

"You wanna' talk about it?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, I think I'm okay," I said, muffled into his shirt. I pulled away and wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand. "Thank you."

He pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Are they always that bad?"

"No, it's never been this bad before. I don't know why this one was so different."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Everything was like it usually is; it was just a vision and when it was over, I woke up. But I could still hear everything. All of the screaming and yelling, it was so loud and I didn't know what to do," I said, trying to wipe away what tears were left. I sat there for a moment before I thought of something; I didn't know if what I had seen was something that had already happened or if it was something that could be stopped. "Do you know anyone named Jean?"

His body tensed, his breathing quickened and he moved his hand from my arm. "Yeah, she's dead," he said bluntly.

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

The look in his eyes from my vision returned and my heart sank. He had been in love with her and she had died. That's why he had looked as though everything had been taken from him; it had.

* * *

When we got to our next motel, I was so exhausted from the events of the night before and that morning that I decided to take a nap. When I woke up, it was part two in the morning and the only light was coming from the open bathroom door.

I rolled over and sat up, feeling groggy and hungry. I stood and walked to the refrigerator. Logan and I had bought some food for us both earlier and I was particularly craving one of the tacos I had bought. Right as I was about to open the door, I saw the note tacked to it.

'_Went into town for a fight. Be back at around three or four. If you leave before I get back, take care of yourself._

_L'_

I took it down and threw it in the trash bin before grabbing two of the tacos from the refrigerator and sticking them in the microwave to heat. I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains to look out at the parking lot. It was raining. Still. It seemed as though that's all it had done since I had arrived. I generally liked the rain and storms had never bothered me, I actually enjoyed them, but over the past few weeks, it had gotten a little ridiculous. Perhaps I wouldn't have minded it so badly if it wasn't so cold.

I stood by the window until I heard the timer on the microwave go off. Half way through eating, I saw headlights shine through the open curtains, as I heard the sound of Logan's truck pull up outside. A few moments later, he was unlocking the door and walking in.

"There a reason why you're sittin' in the dark?" he asked, shucking his wet jacket from his body.

"I've got a headache and I thought the light might make it worse," I said, mouth full of food. "That and I'm too lazy to turn one on."

He grunted out a laugh. "Fair enough."

"You're back kind of early, aren't you?"

"Yeah, they closed early. I didn't even get a drink."

"Isn't that what the beer in the refrigerator's for?"

"That's for breakfast," he said, walking over towards it. "That reminds me, though."

"You know, I've never met anyone that drinks beers with their breakfast, before. Though I'm sure if anyone else did, without your healing, they'd be a week away from an AA meeting."

He pulled out a can and popped it open, drinking about half of it down in one sip, as he stood with the refrigerator door open. "Ever had one?" he asked, closing the door. He then pulled out the chair beside me and sat down.

"No, I was taught it was bad manners to get sloshed. Also, I'm a little too young."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Ain't it bad manners to put your elbows on the table and talk with your mouth full, too?"

I shrugged. "I get tired of being mannerly all the time."

"I wasn't aware that you were ever mannerly."

"Ha, funny," I said dry and sarcastically.

He just smirked at me. He was like my older, angrier, slightly more _male_, alter ego.

We fell quiet for a moment as I continued to eat and he finished his beer before getting another one and popping it open. "You still wanna' find your real mother?" he asked.

I pulled my feet up to my seat, wrapping my arms around my legs as I rest my chin on my knees. "Yeah. I don't know why, but I really think she might be able to help me."

"Is she a mutant, too?"

"I don't know. I would think that would be something I couldn't forget, but I don't remember anything ever being said about it. I don't know that I expect her to be one, though. But I don't really know _what_ I expect."

"You think she'll wanna' see you?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know, I don't see why not."

"She did give you away."

"Not because she wanted to; she just couldn't take care of me."

"You remember much of her?"

"No. I remember bits of her, but mostly I just remember the last day I saw her. She had long, black hair and she had it clipped back. She was wearing this green dress and uh…she read me this book, some Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, or something, and there was this one line that stuck it my memory. It was…well, it's uh, it's kind of silly, but it was 'my favorite part of the day, is when you and me become we'. Right after she finished reading it, she told me she had to leave me. There was no transition, there was never any talk that she might have to leave me, one day we just got up, she took me to the orphanage and she told me that I was going to live with the other kids there. She said that she loved me but she couldn't take care of me anymore and that there I would be able to find a family that could. I was okay the first few days, but after I realized that she wasn't going to come back for me…that was sad. I really missed her."

"Why had you never thought of contacting her before now?"

"I _wanted_ to get in contact with her, but when I was about ten, I asked about it and they told me that until I was eighteen, they couldn't tell me anything about her."

"How long you been eighteen?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"Not even three months yet. I've been a little preoccupied since then. In case you haven't noticed."

"Hate to say I haven't spent a lot of my time noticin' what you do with yours."

I smiled at him. "You do not hate to say that."

He smiled back. "You're right; I don't," he said with a wink.

I let out a sigh and stared at him in the dark. He was a good-looking guy, I suppose, if you were into older men. His hair was a little weird, but it worked for him. His smiled was nice, when he actually smiled, rather than smirked or scowled. But his eyes, they were so much like mine. I didn't know how, didn't know why, and didn't care. He was a gruff man, a little scary looking, actually, but when I looked in his eyes, they felt so familiar that I couldn't help but be comforted by them. Along with their shape and color, which matched mine to a near perfect, there was also a look of loneliness, something of which I had felt quite a bit. Until I met him.

"Miss Rivers, am I understanding correctly that this man, whom you admittedly still didn't know very well at this point, whom you had seen, as you claim, commit a murder and a man from what you say had a lot of emotional problems caused by the death of a woman whom you say he loved, when you were with him, all your feelings of loneliness over your lifetime went away?" Dr. Lewis asked, interrupting me once again to interject a question.

"Yes sir, you understand correctly that that's what I'm saying. However, he had emotional problems far before Jean died, and I didn't see him commit murder, my eyes were closed. But he did kill him, and only because he didn't want him to go on and hurt anyone else. I told you that."

"So you believe that he chose the lesser of two evils?"

"No sir, I believe that Logan did what he thought was right. Despite how you may see him by how I describe him, Logan wasn't a bad guy. He may have done bad things-"

"Like committing murder?"

"Yes, but he…had a strong moral sense, I guess."

"I'm sorry Jayden, but how am I supposed to believe that a man whom you say _killed_ another innocent man, had a 'strong moral sense'? That doesn't make sense to me."

I had been staring out at the rain, idly talking until I could continue with my story, but when I heard him use the word 'innocent', my head snapped towards him. "Innocent? _Innocent?_ Have you been listening to _anything_ I've been saying? The man was going to _rape_ me, how does that make him _innocent_?"

"He never committed a crime, but you let Logan lead you to believe that those were his intentions. If there was no crime committed, then he was innocent."

"It was self defense, whether a crime was actually committed or not. He was forcing me against my will to go with him."

"It wasn't self defense, not on his part, and you were living with a murderer who was manipulating you to believe that you were only safe with him."

"Oh my word!" I exclaimed, standing from my seat and walking to the window. "When we started this, I told you that you had to believe me. Why would he want to manipulate me into believe anything? He had no interest in me what so ever and the only reason he was letting me stay with him was because he didn't want me to go out and wander the streets. He let me go with him, not because he had to, but because he didn't want me to end up with someone who _would_ try to manipulate me. Because he was worried about me."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I snapped, crossing my arms.

I watched as his flipped back through some of the notes in his notebook he had been keeping since the beginning of our session. "I think you do."

"Really, and why do you think that?" I asked angrily.

"Because before you told me that he found something about you that was familiar."

"So?"

"So, what was it that he found familiar?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Do you also that I care because you'd be wrong about that, too."

"Miss Rivers, your attitude with get you no where; we're just here to talk."

"No, I'm here because I promised my parents that I would talk to you, and you're here because you get paid out the freakin' wazoo to sit there and tell me that apparently I'm extremely gullible and believe everything anyone tells me. I'm not stupid, I'm not gullible and if you don't want to believe what I'm saying, then don't. But I'd rather just keep the rest to myself then, if you don't mind."

"I'm not judging you Jayden, if that's what you're implying. I'm simply trying to understand your mindset that would allow you to go against a better judgment and stay with a potentially dangerous man."

"I told you; I can't explain it, but I felt safe with him. The only time I ever saw him fight anyone was in a ring for money, if someone else started it first, or if they were hurting the people he cared about. Logan was, is…whatever, capable of killing anyone, but that doesn't mean he does. He protects the people he cares about."

"Which brings me back to my other question; why did _he_ care about _you_?"

Logan and I stayed up talking in the dark for another hour. I had never had that before, someone to talk to about nothing. Someone I felt so comfortable with that I could just let go, be myself and talk about whatever. Maybe it was because I was so much like him, or maybe he just put me at ease. I don't know, but once we were done at the kitchen table, we relocated to our beds, respectively, and watched TV. I wasn't sleepy again and he was still too hyped up from his fights that night to rest just yet. We watched an episode of Jerry Springer, laughing at the various freaks and sharing our confusion about the man who had duct taped fish to his chest and admitted to his girlfriend that he had secretly been 'making love' to them.

"Well, ain't that just something you don't hear everyday?" Logan said, standing from his bed.

"Which is a good thing, otherwise you might have to reevaluate who you're hanging out with."

He grunted out a laugh. "That's it for me; I'm gettin' in the shower," he said.

I laughed. "Oh come on, I think they're going to have a man who's sleeping with his father-in-law next."

"_Father_ in law?" he asked, turning with a cocked eyebrow.

"That's what it said. That has to just get complicated, don't you think?"

"At least it's not fish."

"Good point."

He entered the bathroom and within moments, I heard the water in the shower turn on. After the commercial break, the man who was cheating on his wife with her father wasn't quite as entertaining as the fish guy and soon I found myself falling back to sleep. In between drifting from sleep and awake, I heard the TV go off and felt someone covering me up, tucking me into bed. I wanted to believe that he was doing it because despite how hard he fought it, he had started to care about me some. But I knew that the reasoning behind it was because he cared about Marie. She was the reasoning behind everything he did and I knew that he was taking care of me, because he couldn't take care of her. I knew it, but as I rocked myself to sleep, humming the same song as every night, I let myself believe that the man sleeping in the bed next to mine cared only about me. As I was nearly asleep, I was surprised by how much I wanted it to actually be true.

* * *

The next day I woke at noon. There was something liberating about waking up at whatever time I wanted. When I lived at home, my parents insisted that I be up at six during the week, and eight during weekends and the summer, but out by myself, I could do whatever I wanted.

"What have I told you about leavin' your crap out in the bathroom?" Logan asked.

Well, maybe not _whatever_ I wanted.

"You told me to put it up because you can't shave with it in your way," I said, talking into my pillow. "But seriously dude; shouldn't it only take you, like, three minutes to shave? I shouldn't take too long to keep up those muttonchops, which went out of style in like, the seventies."

"I don't care. If you don't keep your crap outta' my way, I'm trowin' it out."

"Alright, I'll move it," I said, settling back down into my bed.

There was a pause between us. "Doesn't that require gettin' outta' bed?"

I let out a small growl and stood from my bed, marching into the bathroom where Logan was standing with his hands at his waist, waiting for me. I snatched my things off the counter, giving him a sleep scowl as I excited the room. However, I'm sure the scowl would have been more effective if I hadn't banged my foot on the doorway going out, causing me to trip. I heard him laugh and when I looked back at him, I saw him smirking at me.

"Yeah, hardy-freakin'-har," I said dryly, trying to recompose myself enough to get to my bag to put away my things. As I was walking over to it, I saw a cockroach crawl across the floor. I screamed and jumped onto one of the chairs by the small kitchen table.

Logan came running from the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

"I just saw a massive cockroach!"

"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice falling flat and bored.

"Yes! It nearly crawled over my foot."

"Look, unless you're hurt, someone's tryin' to break in, or it's one freakin' big bug, don't scream like that again. All right?"

"It _was_ a freakin' big bug!"

"Was it big enough to eat you?"

"No."

"Then don't scream."

I threw my arms down, motioning to the floor where the cockroach had just been. "Dude, we're staying in a motel with bugs!" I nearly shrieked.

"First of all, stop callin' me 'dude', and second, it's a _bug_; why are you scared?"

"Well, _Logan_," I said, emphasizing his name, "bugs happen to freak me out. I can't help it. Much like clowns, they're just a _little_ bit creepy."

"You're scared of clowns?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Don't even plan on making fun of me for that, because it's not going to bother me. I'm dead set on believing that they're evil."

"I think you need to go back to sleep, kid," he said, turning to go back to the bathroom.

"Well I would if there wasn't a _roach_ lose in here!" I yelled after him.

"So what're you gonna' do, stay up on that chair all day? They can climb too, you know?" he said, the smirk returning to his face.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yeah, a little bit," he said with a small laugh.

"Jerk," I muttered under my breath.

"I heard that."

"Crap."


	5. Break Down

Disclaimer: I own nothing, so there.

* * *

Later that afternoon, we went out for breakfast. There was some small, weird Canadian restaurant that had a massive lumberjack statue posing outside with his axe, looking as if he was about to swing into the building with it.

"Are you serious, we're eating _here_?" I asked, staring up at the giant lumberjack, whose paint was peeling and fading. It was disconcerting to say the least.

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, let's go somewhere that doesn't have some fake, creepy guy trying to break through the roof with an axe. Just a thought, though."

"They've got good food."

"They would have to; look at the place!"

He looked over at me with his usual scowl. "I'm payin', I decide where we eat. You got a problem with it, then don't eat anything."

"That shouldn't count; you won't _let_ me pay for anything."

"Too bad, I guess you don't get to make any decisions, then," he said. "Besides, you're gonna' need that money later."

I stared at the restaurant for a moment longer, listening to the ever-present rain pound against the hood of the truck. "Does it _really_ have good food?"

"I don't lie about stuff like that, kid," he said with a bit of a smirk.

I smiled. "All right, if I don't have a choice."

"You don't."

"Then let's go eat."

We left the truck and ran through the rain to the entrance of the diner. Once we got in and I had shaken the rain from me, I looked around and realized that the decor on the inside wasn't much better. It was covered in cheesy and outdated looking photos of obviously fake lumberjacks, posing as if they were in the middle of chopping down a tree, and the camera caught them by surprise, but giving big, fake, grins. Also, there were various maple syrup bottles everywhere. It was the stereotypical Canadian diner.

"How did you even stand this place long enough to find out that it has good food?" I whispered to him as we were being seated.

"You'll put up with a lot when you're hungry."

"I think I would have starved," I said, sliding into a booth.

"Yeah, look, I gotta' make a phone call. If I don't get back before the waitress gets here, order me a beer."

"I'm not old enough."

"Then lie."

"What if they need to see I.D.?"

"Tell 'em you don't have it with you, I don't care."

"Well what if they don't believe me and make me leave?"

"I guess you'll have to sit in the truck while I eat," he said with a smirk and a wink, walking off towards the payphone back by the bathrooms.

I moved to grab a menu and caught my own reflection on the side of the napkin dispenser. I looked so different than I had just a month before. As I said earlier, I had been raised in a fairly well off family and I had gone to an all girls prep school; my fashion sense was greatly influenced by those around me. I would dress like them to fit in so that my parents would be happy. But once I left home, I exchanged all of my dresses and high-heels for old sweaters, blue jeans and boots. The shift in my wardrobe made me realize how silly it had been of me before to try to be like everyone else. I wasn't them, I never would be, nor would I be like them. I was a mutant. I'm not saying that because I'm a mutant I can't wear a dress and high-heels, I'm just saying that no matter what I wear on the outside in an attempt to look like everyone else, I'm never going to fit in. I'm always going to see myself as the girl with her hair down in her eyes, in blue jeans with holes and a pullover sweater that serves its purpose by keeping me warm under my green army jacket.

I let out a sigh and grabbed a menu before glancing up to see Logan standing at the phone talking. Then my sight shifted, everything went blurry and when my sight focused once again, I was no longer in the diner; I was in a bedroom.

I couldn't tell right away who it was, but someone was asleep in the bed, tossing and turning, muttering out words. It was Logan. He was having a nightmare.

The door to his bedroom opened and someone crept in, hovering over him in his bed. "Logan," she paused. "Logan- Logan wake up." It was Marie, only she didn't have the white in her hair. "Logan-"

He sat bolt right up, letting out an angry yell. Marie screamed in surprise. I heard the 'snikt' sound of his claws popping before I saw him stab them through her chest. Both of their eyes widen, in shock and pain. She gasped, trying to breathe, and he retracted his claws.

"Help me! Somebody help!" he yelled. His eyes were sad; looking scared and near crying. She continued to gasp. "No, no," he said quietly, shaking his head slightly as she reached her hand out, touching his cheek.

Immediately her powers began to work as she drained the energy from him, the wounds in her chest and back healing from the use of his powers. When she moved her hand, he fell, his body convulsing on the floor.

"Scott, grab a pillow," I heard someone say.

"It was an accident," Marie said, leaving the room.

Then everything went blurry again, my vision shifted and when my eyes slid back into focus, I was back in the diner.

I looked around, trying to see if anyone had noticed that I had been out of it. When I looked to the payphone, I saw Logan staring at me. I tapped the side of my head with my finger and shrugged, offering him a small, weak smile. He cocked an eyebrow at me before going back to his conversation. After only a few minutes of talking, he hung up and came back to the table.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"I was having a vision," I said, trying to down play it.

"Was it as bad as the one yesterday?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You've not had one during the day since you've been with me. What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I said as the waitress came to over to us. She took our orders and then left. I was quiet for a moment. "Has Marie always had those white streaks in her hair?"

"No, why?"

"I saw her, both of you, actually. She didn't have the white in her hair and I was just wondering if what I saw had already happened or not."

"What'd you see?"

"You stabbing her."

"That happened right after we met."

"You were scared that you had killed her."

"Yes, I was."

"I've never seen you look that scared before."

"That's 'cause I'm usually not."

"Is that why you're close to her?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me and gave me a sideways glace. "'Cause I almost killed her?"

"No, because you saved her life. If she hadn't have touched you, she would've died."

"Yeah, but _I_ stabbed her."

"But she wasn't mad at you for it, though. She thought it was her fault."

"You heard what she was thinkin'?"

I looked away. "It's complicated," I said, fidgeting with my hands on the table.

He took his hands and held mine down. I looked up at him and he was staring at me. I was slightly taken aback by his gesture; he had avoided all unnecessary contact with me by any means possible, and for him to just hold my hands the way he had, made me feel at odds with myself. I wanted him to care about me like he did Marie, I was jealous of a girl that I had never met and yet I didn't know why. I didn't know why I cared about him, but to have him holding my hands, and staring at me the way that he was, I felt my want grow deeper and my confusion grow stronger.

"How complicated?"

"I don't really hear thoughts, I sort of feel them, or just know them. I don't really know how to explain it. I don't really understand it myself."

"What was she thinkin'?"

"Well, when she came in she was worried about you because you were having a bad dream. Then when you woke up and you stabbed her it was…odd," I said and then paused.

"How?"

"She was scared and there was pain but…you were touching her and there was something that…made her happy?" I said, slightly confused by the thought of it.

"_Happy_?" he asked, showing that he shared my confusion.

"Yeah, kind of. She was happy to have someone touch her, even if it meant that they were killing her. I mean, it could've been something else, but that's what it felt like."

"Why'd she feel like it was her fault, though? She didn't do anything."

"I don't know, it had something to do with her feeling like she shouldn't have touched you afterwards, or something. Like I said, though; I don't really hear it, I just feel it and between the two of you, there was just too much going on for me to really understand it." He let go of my hands and moved his over to his side of the table. "You were on the phone with her just now, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"You were on the phone with her yesterday when I had my really bad one."

"You think that has something to do with it?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just a coincidence, but it's something for me to pay attention to."

"Why should she affect what you see?"

I shook my head, hair falling into my eyes and I pushed it away. "I don't know; I really don't. Although admittedly I don't know much about my powers, what all I can do, what they mean, how to control them, what has or hasn't happened yet. I just know that they're real, that's it."

"You're still a kid, you got time to learn."

"I hope I do anyway."

He cocked and eyebrow at me. "You plan on dyin' on me soon?"

I laughed. "No, I'm not planning on it, but you never know. Either way, I was actually referring to hoping that I could learn about them."

"Don't worry about it, you will."

I gave him a small smile and nodded. "I hope you're right." And I did. More than anything at that point.

There are times in our life where everything seems to fit together and others where we scramble to keep things from constantly falling apart. I always found that in my life, there had never been a transition period where things were only 'okay'. Everything was either great or terrible. But with Logan, it wasn't the same. It was never one thing with him. I could be happy and miserable at the same time. Not care about him, but want him to care about me. My visions were getting better and worse with him. Nothing made sense and yet I knew for one hundred percent certain that there was a reason, unbeknownst to me at the time, for why I had to be with him. I wasn't used to living this way. If life was good or bad, I adapted and dealt with it on my own. But I wasn't used to feeling confused. I wasn't used to needing people. And so with Logan, I hated him while finding myself slowly beginning to love him. This was a time in my life where I wasn't scrambling to keep things from falling apart, but to put them together.

"Miss Rivers, this is all very well and interesting, however, I don't see how it has anything to do with what we originally started talking about. You said that he was someone that you needed, but to me it only seems as if you had a crush on him," Dr. Lewis said.

I let out a loud laugh from where I was standing by the window. "I'm afraid that was the furthest thing from my mind, doctor. Like I said earlier, he was a good looking guy, gorgeous actually, but…" I shook my head. "No, no crush. You would be wrong about that as well."

"But you said that you were starting to love him, is that not true?"

"Yes, but not in _that_ way. There's more than one way to love a person, I would think you would know that. I may just be a teenager, but that doesn't mean that I don't know how to appreciate someone's company or mutual interests. Even though I was jealous of Marie through what I was seeing of the two of them together, seeing him with her made me realize how different he was."

"Different how?"

"Different in the sense that with her, he let his guard down. He felt attached to her and cared about her. I saw that how he reacted to her, was how I reacted to him. When you put up a big enough wall, it's hard for someone to find away around. But she did it for him, he did it for me, and I…admired him for it. Seeing him with her made me begin to love him because he wasn't the same when I was with him."

"Why not?"

"A lot of things had happened to him at that point, but when I found him, Jean had just died and there was something changed about him. He was colder and more distant than I had ever seen him. He tried to drink her away, but he healed too quickly for the alcohol to ever take affect on him. I had never felt so much sympathy for a total stranger. I had never really ever felt any emotions for strangers. I didn't care about them."

"Then would you say he was more of a father figure?"

"I guess you could say that."

"But if you already have a father then why did you need a father figure?"

"I didn't."

"I'm confused," he admitted.

I turned to look at him. "By what?"

"By why he was someone you said you needed."

I shook my head. "Not _someone _I need, _something_."

"I still don't understand."

"I told you that it was complicated."

"Why?"

"Why's anything complicated?" I asked, turning back to the window. "You don't like this because you don't understand what I'm saying and you're supposed to understand all of your patients, aren't you? You're getting frustrated because when I said that it was complicated you thought that I was lying in order to not have to explain myself, or that I was exaggerating. What you have to understand Dr. Lewis, is that I myself am still confused by it all. It's not all going to make sense; you just have to believe me. Can you do that? Without delving too much into why I did what I did and analyzing all of my actions, can you just listen to what I'm saying? I don't want to be here, I don't feel I need to explain myself or what I've done, but I promised my parents that I would and so here I am. I just need you to _listen_ to me. Then I'll go away and you can go on with the rest of your day and deal with the _real _crazy people."

He was quiet for a moment as I heard him flip back through his notebook. I then heard him let out a sigh. "Miss Rivers, you mentioned wanting to find your birth mother and he said that he knew someone who could help find her. Did anything become of that?"

I closed my eyes, momentarily shutting out the rain and let out a deep breath. "Yeah."

Four days after having my vision of Logan when Jean had died, I had another strong one.

I saw some sort of sadistic looking lab with a makeshift tank in the middle. On the wall, there were X-Rays tacked up to a board that was illuminating them. I had been to this room before, quite a few times actually, but it was different this time. They weren't cutting him open, they weren't electrocuting him, they weren't beating him. At first, I wasn't even sure that he was there.

I could see men in white coats, holding clipboards and staring at the water anxiously. After only a few moments, I felt a burning start in my chest. My lungs felt as if they were on fire and soon I was fighting for breath. I fought and struggled against the pain for at least five minutes. At which point I saw one of the men standing behind the tank pull a lever, causing a metal platform to rise out of it, with Logan strapped to it. He coughed and sputtered, trying to get out the water he had ingested while being held under. The rush of air to my lungs that I felt as he breathed in stung, but that didn't stop him from letting out a loud growl. He panted, trying to make up for his lost breath.

"Drop him down again, and let's try ten minutes," one of the men said.

Logan bared his teeth and let out one last angry yell before the dropped him in the water once more. I followed him that time; I could see him as he yanked at his restraints. I could see his eyes wide, filled with terror and rage, and when he opened his mouth to scream from under the water, I woke up screaming.

Once again, my head was filled with an immense pain. Once my screaming stopped, I could do no more than let out whimpers through my gritted teeth. There were small echoes of Logan's yells in my mind, but mostly I felt the physical pain the vision left behind. Along with the pressure in my head, my chest and lungs burned, and my arms were sore from how hard he had been struggling.

I held my hands to my head, shutting my eyes closed tight. Then the tears came. I gasped for breath, unable to catch my own. My body shook from the pain and crying. I wanted to stop it, but I didn't know how. I rocked back and forth on my bed, trying to somehow ease the pain, and find a way to breathe when I felt Logan's hands cover mine, and then lift them away. I opened my eyes and gave him a pleading look.

"Come on kid, you gotta' breathe," he said. I tried to force air into my lungs, but I could. I tried hard, but all I could manage were tiny gasps. I closed my eyes again. "Look at me!" he demanded. "Jayden!" My eyes snapped open and the pain in my head stopped. But I still couldn't breathe. "What's wrong?"

I was light headed, dizzy, and felt myself falling. Then everything went black.

When I regained consciousness, I was lying on the bed and I felt Logan's mouth on mine, forcing air into my lungs as he gave me mouth to mouth. I coughed and he moved away. I rolled to my side and continued coughing until I spit out mouthfuls of water onto the floor.

"What the?" he said as I took in big gulps of air, finally able to breathe. "How'd you choke on water?"

"Oh no! No, no, no!" I said, covering my moth with my hand. "Oh please, no!"

"What?"

"I saw you, they-they were trying to drown you and you couldn't breath, but you-you couldn't die. You kept screaming and swallowing water. I could feel it. My lungs were burning, and my arms hurt from where you were trying to get lose. I could feel it."

"So what you saw happenin' to me happened to you?"

"I think so."

"Has that ever happened before?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "This is the first time." Tears came back to my eyes. "What if they're always going to be like this? What if you leave me and I don't have anyone to help me?"

He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not gonna' leave you 'til you get this figured out."

"But what if you do?"

"Hey, I'm not goin' to, alright?"

I was scared and still shaken. Tears welled up in my eyes and I fought to keep from losing what control I had left. The visions that I had like that took so much out of me. Emotionally, mentally, physically. Even though I could no longer seem them or feel the pain, my body was haunted by what it had seen and felt. I could still feel the sting in my chest from coughing up the water and I still felt the fear of choking on it. I was scared that from then on, everything I saw would be painful or harmful.

But on the other hand, I felt at odds with myself. Even though I was feeling all of these crazy emotions from my vision, Logan's gestures toward me made me feel protected. From one so large as giving me mouth to mouth to save me, to one so small as keeping his hand on my shoulder to try to comfort me, and in between by promising not to leave me.

I was exhausted from it all and collapsed right into his arms. He must have been in the shower when he heard me, because he was wearing only his blue jeans and the rest of his body was still wet. He held me to him as I sobbed into his shoulder. I was so tired that I don't even know how I found the strength to cry. But I did, and soon I was back to sleep.

When I woke next, two hours had passed and I found myself lying on Logan's chest. He had fallen asleep as well. I thought of getting up, but the feeling of him holding me to him overpowered any such idea. There was something so different about him, about how he was holding me. There was such an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness that rolled off him. Overwhelming being an understatement. It's not to say that I didn't feel safe with my parents, but with him, protection was such an instinctual thing. He took care of and protected what was his. I don't know when he had assumed me as his, but I didn't hate the idea. I only hated the idea of allowing myself to be caught up in him to only have him leave me. During those few minutes that I was awake, I wondered and thought about the possibility that he might let me stay with him even _after _I had my situation figured out. But I wasn't allowed much time to think, as I soon drifted back to sleep, relishing in his safety.

* * *

I woke slowly, my vision leaving me drained and feeling as if I had a hangover, or at least what I imaged one would feel like. My head was pounding and I was thankful that it was dark, the only light coming from the open bathroom door. I sat up and carefully stood from the bed, only to find out that despite his constant nagging of me cleaning up my own messes, Logan had cleaned up the water that I had choked on and spit out. I slowly made my way over to the refrigerator, once again finding a note tacked to it.

'_Went out for a fight. Should be back around two or three. If you leave before I get back, take care of yourself. _

_L'_

It was pretty much the same as before, so I threw it into the garbage before continuing my search for food. It wasn't until I was half way through eating my peanut butter sandwich that I realized it was a quarter till four in the morning, and he wasn't back yet.

I finished eating and cleaned up after myself, all the while keeping an eye on the clock. At four thirty, I began to get worried. I knew that he could take care of himself, but I didn't know why he was so late.

A little after six, I had watched more infomercials about cooking utensils then I hoped I ever would again. That's when I heard the tuck pull up and I let out a sigh of relief.

He pushed his way through the door once he had unlocked it and stood at the entrance, staring at me, soaking wet.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm getting' in the shower. Get your stuff together, 'cause we're leavin' when I get out."

"Okay," I said, sliding off the bed as I began to gather my things. I didn't want to ask what was wrong because I didn't want to know. I stuffed all of my sweaters but one into my bag, pulling the one I left out on over my T-shirt. I grabbed my boots, sat down, and began pulling them on and lacing them up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Logan paused in the doorway of the bathroom. I looked up at him.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked quietly, his back to me.

"No," I said. "You've never given me a reason to be."

"Even after all the stuff you've seen me do to other people?"

"From what I can tell, they screwed you over. All of them knew what you were capable of and when you started doing what they had been trying to train you to do; they got paid back for what they had taken from you."

"But you don't know me; you don't know when I might snap. Doesn't that scare you at all?"

"Do you want it to?"

Suddenly he turned around and stormed over to me. He grabbed me by my upper arms and shook me. "I'm an animal, kid, don't you get that?" he growled. "This ain't no freakin' pettin' zoo. You can't just come in, not knowin' me, thinkin' that you're gonna' be safe. Didn't your parents teach you not to trust strangers? _I'm_ who they were talkin' about. _I'm_ who they were tellin' you to stay away from. I hurt people, what makes you think I won't hurt you?"

I was slightly taken aback by his sudden anger, but wasn't totally surprised by it. I had seen him snap in my visions before, and that night at the bar, but never at me. I wasn't quite sure of what he wanted me to say. I didn't know why he was so upset. And I didn't know what to do.

"Because I trust you," I said quietly.

He let out a loud growl. "How can you trust me, I don't trust myself!" He shook me again and for the first time since I had been with him, I was scared. I didn't know what was wrong with him, but something obviously was. He stared at me and sniffed the air. "So, now you're scared of me?" I shrunk back some, trying to pull away from him as far as he would let me, but he pulled me back to him and lowered his mouth to my ear. "Maybe you should stay that way." Then he let go of me, turned back around and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

I sat there for a moment, feeling shaken. There had been a one-eighty, a complete turn around in his personality since the day before when he held me while I cried and slept, to right then, when he was yelling at me. I was too shocked to do anything but numbly lace up my boots and finish packing the rest of my things. By the time he was getting out of the shower, I was pulling on one of my hoodies and my army jacket over it.

"You ready?" he asked, pulling on his own jacket.

"Yeah," I said quietly from where I was sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Let's go," he said, picking up his bag. He had been planning on leaving; he had already packed his bag and was ready to go. It made me wonder if he had been planning to leave before I woke up and was mad that he had to take me with him.

I followed behind him as he walked to the truck and threw his bag in. I climbed in and strapped on my seatbelt. He walked away from the truck and over to the main building to check out.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. I sat there, listening to the rain and worried about what was going to happen. I didn't know whether to let my fear show through or try to get over it somehow. He was in a terrible mood and I didn't know which would appease him more. He seemed to have liked it when he realized that I was scared of him, and so I decided that would be the safest way to go. Even though at that point I wasn't exactly sure _what _was safe with him.

In a few minutes, Logan was back, in the truck and pulling out of the parking lot. I kept to myself and hoped that at the very least I could keep from pissing him off even further. After three hours of straight driving, with no talking between the two of us, I had a lot of time to think. Mostly about my reasons for still being gone. To begin with, being with him had helped to curb and slow my visions, but over that week, they had come back with an intensity that they had never known before our meeting.

I was sure that there was a reason for why I was seeing him so much. But after over a month of being gone, I was no closer to understand any of it then I had been while I was at home.

Then there was one other thing. I was sure that if I could go through with it, then I could somehow figure out some of my problems. The thing was; I still needed Logan's help to pull it off.

"That psychic professor you know, would he be willing to help me find my real mother? I think if I could talk to her, I could get a lot of things solved and get out of your way," I said, speaking for the first time since we had left.

He let out a grunted laugh. "You still goin' on about that? He's not gonna' help you 'cause it's a waste of time. She gave you away; she doesn't care about you. She sure ain't gonna' start now," he said, he voice harsh and bitter.

"My mother gave me away because she _did _care about me. She wanted me to have a good life and she knew she couldn't give that to me. She loved me."

He glanced over at me. "You sure about that darlin', 'cause I didn't think you just gave people away when you loved 'em. I could be wrong, but I think that if she really wanted to keep you, she could've found a way to do it. So before you start defendin' someone, make sure you know why you're doin' it."

He turned his head, giving his attention back to the road. I was quiet for a moment and did the best I could to bite back the comment in my mind, but before I could help it, it was spewing from my mouth. "At least my mother did what she could to keep me alive. I seem to recall that you, on the other hand, stood by and let the person you love die. My mother tied, but you just let Jean drown."

He stomped on the breaks, causing the truck to slide on the wet and empty road before coming to a complete halt.

"Get out!" he growled.

"What?"

"Get your bag and get out of my tuck right now."

I looked at him and there was rage clear and apparent written on his face. He wasn't joking in the slightest.

I unbuckled myself and grabbed my bag from behind my seat before getting out. No sooner than when I had the door shut was he laying on the gas and speeding down the long stretch of road.

I stood there in the pouring down rain, watching him drive away. I wasn't expecting to see him turn around to come back to get me, but I was hoping that at the very least, he would slow down and stop. I stood there, hopelessly waiting to see the red glow of his break lights until I was soaking wet and could no longer see his truck. That's when I sat on the side of the road and cried. It hurt to see him leave, but it broke my heart to realize he didn't care. I was nothing more than a speck in his rear view and the further he drove, the more apparent that became.

Being without him for the first time in three weeks, I cried knowing that I needed him and there was nothing I could do to make him feel the same about me. He promised he wouldn't leave me, but there I was, all alone.


	6. Who Am I?

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or Fox, but I did just buy a really gorgeous pair of earrings today, so that's spiffy!

Sidenote: I realized that I suck at writing summaries. What could I do to make them interesting? Anyway, please enjoy the chapter and let me know what ya'll think, I'm still a little nervous about this one!

* * *

The nearest two was an hour's walk back. Although the road was a fairly easy walk, the rained that seemed to be a constant in the weather made the trip less than pleasant. It was freezing cold and coupled with the wind that was blowing right on me, it was more than a little annoying. By the time I reached the two, I was shaking and my teeth were chattering.

As soon as I saw the first diner in town, I all but ran to it. I found the bathroom straight away and went to it. I changed my clothes for dryer ones and then rung out and dried my hair and clothes the best I could with the hand dryer. After twenty minutes of being locked in there, I decided that I was as good as I was going to get and decided to pack my stuff up and get something to eat. I found a booth away from everyone else and shoved my bag into the seat before sitting down. In a few moments, a waitress came to take my order.

"Um, a coffee," I said absentmindedly, staring out the tick pane glass window my booth was pushed up against. When she came back with my coffee, I felt curious. "Does it always rain this much here during the fall?" I asked.

"No, I haven't seen it rain this much in about eighteen or twenty years. From the looks of it, you must have gotten caught in the thick of it.

I gave her a small, fake smile. "Yeah, I walked in it for about an hour."

"Well sweetheart, you must be freezing half to death. Let me bring you something hot to eat to warm you up, okay?"

I gave her a larger, more genuine smile and nodded my head. "Alright."

"What can I get for you?"

"Um…I don't know."

"Well just sit back and rest. Auntie Barbara will take care of everything for you."

"Thank you," I said, but as she began to walk away, I had a feeling. Not quite a vision, but more than a thought. Something that latched itself onto my mind and pulled at me. "Uh, ma'am," I called her back. "This may sound odd and out of no where, but by any chance do you know anyone named Bridget Lumness?"

"Now I know a Bridget Joan, everyone calls her Brie, though."

"Is there any possible way that she _could've_ been a Lumness?"

"I don't know. Some of the other girls here know her so I can ask and get back to you?"

"I would appreciate that," I said. "Thank you."

"No problem, honey."

As I sat there waiting for my food, my mind reeled. I looked around myself and felt as if I had been there before. I didn't know if I personally had actually been there or if I had only seen it, but it was definitely familiar. And the more I looked around, the more I felt as if I had really been there before. Everything felt family. The building, the decorations, the people.

I sighed to myself and shook my head. I was probably just having a major case of déjà vu. I was going to have a mental breakdown before I ever turned twenty if I wasn't careful. I was having a hard time distinguishing between my own reality, someone else's and a complete thought of fiction.

I bowed my head and held it in my hands, taking deep breathes to calm myself. I was still upset about Logan leaving me, cold from being out in the rain, and my head was pounding. I felt overly emotional and fought to keep from breaking into tears.

I wanted to go home; I just didn't know how I could. After everything I had put them through, there was no way that I could possibly tell my parents that I was a mutant. I was scared about being on my own and was doing my best to delay the actual realization that I was, in fact, all by myself. Everything was all just a rush, I felt as if everything was happening so fast that I barely had time to figure out what was going on from one minute to the next.

I had gotten too comfortable, that was it. Clear and simple. I had forgotten that there was going to be an end to my little adventure and that eventually I would have to leave him. I cured myself for my thought from the day before. I had allowed myself to actually believe that there was a possibility that he might keep me.

"I'm so stupid," I muttered to myself.

"Now dear, whatever it is that's wrong, you can't blame yourself." I looked up and saw my waitress, Barbara, standing by me.

"Yeah, I think I can, actually."

"Now why would you say that?" she asked, sitting a plate with a hamburger and fries down on the table in front of me, then sat in the seat opposite of me.

I looked around. "Do they not mind you sitting down?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm an old woman, they know I have to take a break every once in a while. Now tell Auntie Barbara what's wrong."

"I'm trying to find my mother," I half lied. "I was traveling with someone but they sort of…let me out about an hour away."

"You poor thing! Why would someone do that?"

"Because he was a jackass," I said, then shook my head. "Well, he was, but he was in a bad mood too and I sort of just pissed him off further. I really should have left him alone."

"Well my mother used to say someone's bad apple shouldn't ruin your meal."

"I've never heard that one before," I said, eating one of my French fries.

"Now tell me about your mother; what happened to her?"

"Well, we lived here in Canada until I was three and then she gave me up for adoption. When I was adopted, I moved to the states with my new parents. I haven't seen her since."

"What's her name dear?"

"Bridget Lumness."

"So that's why you were asking about her," she said. "Now I asked the other girls but they've only known our Brie as a Joan. She's been married for about fifteen or so years, so there's a possibility that she could've been a Lumness, I don't know. She's not working today, but tomorrow morning there's a girl who's know her for about twenty years and she should be able to tell you all about her."

"Okay, thank you."

"Do you remember your way around town?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you remember where everything is? Oh, I suppose you don't, you said you were only three when you moved from here to the states, didn't you?"

"I was four when I moved, actually, but I don't know that I've ever been to this town before."

"Well Brie's lived here since she was a little girl. You sort of get stuck here that way. If you don't remember being here, then why did you ask me about your mother?"

I shook my head. "I don't know," I admitted truthfully. "Have you ever just had one of those feelings?"

"Well heaven's to Betsy, yes! That's what separates us from the men: woman's intuition. You know if men had half the mind to listen to their instincts as we do, they wouldn't get into so much trouble." I smiled. "How long have you been looking for your mother?"

"Well, I wanted to find her when I was about ten, but I wasn't legally allowed to. When I turned eighteen, I tried to get all of the information about her that I could, but all they had or would release was her name. I knew that already."

"So you came here to look for her?"

"Pretty much," I lied again.

"Do your other parents know where you are?"

"Um…not really. I mean, they know I'm okay, I've called and spoken to them both and they know that I'm in Canada somewhere."

"Are you here all by yourself?"

"Yeah…yeah, I am."

"Who was that man you were riding with, was he a friend?"

"Uh, no, I don't know who he was," I said. "I sort of talked him into letting me ride with him for the past three weeks."

"No, sweetheart, you can't just get into cars with strangers; you never know what people will do these days! Now promise me that while you're looking for your mother, you won't go riding around with any strangers, okay? I have too much to worry about as it is without having to worry whether a nice girl like you will get into a car with some crazy person."

"Alright, no more getting in cars with crazy strangers."

"That's better. Now, do you have a place to stay?"

"No, but when we passed through here earlier I saw a motel, so I'll probably check in there for a few nights until I can figure out my next move."

"Okay, but if they don't have any rooms you come back here and tell me, alright? I've got plenty of spare rooms and Auntie Barbara would be more than happy to put you up for a few nights."

I smiled at her again. "Alright, thank you, I really appreciate it."

"No problem dear, but this old mule has to get back to work. You just rest and eat up. If you need anything else, just yell at me."

"Okay," I said as she stood from the booth. "Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," I said with a small smile.

"Well, I'll be looking for you, then."

* * *

By eight o'clock the next morning, I was up, showered, dressed and ready to go. I ran my fingers through my still damp her to untangle it before pulled up my hood and leaving my motel room. The diner was only about a five-minute walk away.

I walked out the door and onto the sidewalk, into the mildest case of rain that I had seen since I had been there. It was barely sprinkling and the sun was trying to fight its way through the clouds. It made me wonder if perhaps Logan could've been responsible for the bed weather as it seemed to have gone north with him.

Once I reached the diner, my heart sped up. Someone there might know my mother. My real mother. If they did, then there was also a possibility that I might be able to see her again. It had been nearly fifteen years since I had last seen her.

I pushed open the door and walked into the already crowding restaurant. I spotted the booth that I had sat in the day before and saw that it was empty. I went to it and sat down. After a few minutes, Barbara came to take my order.

"Good morning, sugar. How are doing today?" she asked.

"Pretty good, you?"

"I'm doing as well as an old woman can be expected." She laughed. "Can I get anything for you?"

"Do you have pancakes?"

"Only the best in town."

"Then I'll have pancakes and a cup of coffee, please."

"I'll have May send them over and the two of you can talk."

"Alright, thanks."

My heart was racing and so were my thoughts. I was nervous, scared, anxious, excited. I had so many emotions running through my mind at once that I could barely focus. I was happy but scared out of my mind.

What if this Brie was really my birth mother? Would she want to see me? Would she want to know about my life?

What if it wasn't her? What if it was all just a coincidence that she happened to have the same first name as my mother? How common was the name Bridget, anyway?

I shook my head as if in an attempt to shake all of my thoughts into order. It didn't work.

I decided to keep my mind off the more serious thoughts and think of something lighter. I looked around me, surveying the people and the decorations. The end of October was approaching and bringing with it Halloween. The diner had been decorated to coordinate with the upcoming holiday. There were large, fake, attempting to be cute spiders sitting on tables and banisters. Doorways were adorned with black and orange streamers as well as fake cobwebs. Plastic pumpkins sat at the bar and by the cash register. A fake ghost shouting 'Boo!' had been painted on one of the windows as well as scenes of a graveyard with tombstones displaying slightly humorous engravings.

This also didn't work. Nothing seemed to. I let out an exasperated sigh and was amazed to find that with everything going on, with all that was running through my head, my thoughts when back to Logan. _Why am I so stuck on him?_ I wondered.

By now, you may know and fully realize that I had never needed or wanted people in my life. Maybe it had been spurred on by losing my mother at such a young age. Maybe a part of me had agreed with what Logan had said to me; if she really loved me then she could have found a way to take care of me, to have kept us together. Maybe something inside of me had decided that if I couldn't be with my mother, the one person that I _wanted_ to be with, then I just wasn't going to need anyone else. Maybe.

Whatever it was, I hated the fact that he clung to the forefront of my mind. I saw and felt him when I slept. I thought about him while I was awake. And no matter where I was, I was constantly reminded of him. Sitting there, waiting to talk to a complete stranger, I felt as if he had been gone for longer than a day. Crazy as it seemed, I sort of missed him. I could talk to him; I could sit in complete silence with him. He felt distantly familiar to me alone. Not as though I had known him in my life, but as though he were more relatable than my family. He understood and embodied all of the pain, sadness, fear, loneliness, all of the emotions that I felt. He got it. While I was still learning the extent of all of the damage done to me over my short life.

I swore under my breath and massaged my temples. What was I thinking? Neither of us knows what the other was going through. We were totally different people and there was nothing that would ever make us the same. I was still trying to figure out if this was a good or a bad thing when a waitress came to my table.

"I've got your coffee, but the pancakes are going to be a while," she said, setting the steaming cup in front of me. I could feel the heat rolling off it as I looked up at her. "Barbara said that you needed to ask me about someone?"

"Uh, yeah. She said that you know someone named Brie John, but I was wondering if you happened to know what her name was _before_ she got married?"

She sat down in the seat across from me with a loud 'flop'. "I sure do. It was Lumness. Why, do you know her?"

My hear rate which had previously been beating far too fast suddenly seemed to have stopped. I nodded slow and numbly. "Yeah," I said. "She's my mother."

She stared and me hard for a moment before her eyes widened. "Oh. My. Stars. You are _not_ little Jayden are you?"

"You know me?"

"Well sweetheart, who do you think took care of you when your mother had to work her?" She laughed. "Wow. I can't believe how much you've grown up. You know, you've got a lot of Brie in you, but darn it all if you don't look like your daddy."

Now there was too much going on. I didn't know what to concentrate on first. "You knew my father?"

"Oh yeah, all the girls here did back then. He was a good lookin' man, I'll tell you that much. We all wanted him, but your mother…well, she was the only one brave enough to talk to him. We were all too scared. Oh, I was so jealous of her."

"How long were they together?"

The smile slid from her face. "Just that night. Then he left town and as far as I know, they never saw or spoke to each other again after that."

"Do you know where she lives?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you think she would mind if you told me?"

"Well how about this; I'll go call and talk to her, tell her what's going on and then when she gets off from work, I'll see if you can go over?"

I let out a nervous breath. "Okay, that sounds good."

"Don't worry honey, she'll want to see you; you have no idea how much she's missed you."

* * *

At five o'clock that afternoon, I found myself standing outside of a house that, until then, I had never seen before. It was my mother's house. I stood there in the rain, my heart pounding in my chest, and I was having a hard time breathing. My hands were sweaty and shaky, and my mouth was dry. I wanted to move, but I didn't know how. As a matter of a fact, I didn't even know how to think right then. My mind would only form half a thought before moving onto the next one.

I swore aloud and shook my head. "This is stupid, you've wanted to do this since you were ten, just _move_," I ordered myself quietly. And with that, I picked up my right foot, sat it forward and began to walk. Once I got to the door, I rang the bell and waited. After only a few moments, a man opened the door.

He smiled at me. "Are you Jayden?"

"Yeah." I nodded.

He reached out his hand for me to shake, which I did, and continued smiling. "Hey, I'm Mark. It's so nice to finally meet the infamous daughter. When I first met Brie, you were all she talked about."

I fake a small smile. "It's nice to meet you, too," I said, not bothering to mention that she couldn't have had too much to say about me; I was only three the last time she had seen me.

"Well come on it, get out of the rain." He moved, allowing me to step through the doorway and into the house. "Brie's in the den, I'll show you to it. She's helping Vanessa and Crystal with their costumes; they have a Halloween party tonight."

"Who?" I asked, following him as he led me through the strange and new house.

"Vanessa and Crystal, they're our daughters."

"Oh, I didn't know that you had kids."

"May didn't tell you?"

"Uh, well…no. I didn't get to speak to her much, she had to work, but she didn't mention that bit."

"Well, we have the girls, they're six and nine, and we also have a son; he's thirteen. He's staying at a friend's house, so I'm afraid that you won't get to meet him tonight."

"What's his name?"

"Jay."

"Jay?" I repeated in question.

"I know what you're thinking and she did that on purpose. He was sort of named after you."

"Flattering," I said. It came out dryer than I had intended and I felt a little bad about it. But only just a little.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, side stepping my rude comment.

"Here as in town or here as in Canada?"

"Either."

"Canada for a little over a month and in town since yesterday morning."

"You work fast, don't you?" He laughed.

"Yeah, I try," I said as we entered what I assumed was the den.

There were two girls running around in costume and a woman was laughing at them. I stopped and stared at her; she was my mother. She was right there. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run to her and hug her. But I didn't. I couldn't. I just stood there, feeling more as if I were watching a show, a play about a whole new family involving my mother rather than seeing the real thing. It didn't feel right that I could actually watch her, or talk to her. Not after going so many years of wanted but never being able to.

Standing there, I realized I couldn't breathe. Or maybe it was just that I had forgotten to. I sucked in a sharp breath. Yeah, that was it; I had just forgotten to breathe.

"Honey, girls, our guest is here," Mark announced.

All three of them turned their eyes on me. My mother stood and walked over to my. She placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling at me. "Hey sweetheart, it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed.

My nervousness and excitement disappeared and was replaced by confusion. I blinked at her. Had she really just said to her daughter that she hadn't seen in fifteen years, _'Hi sweetheart, it's so good to see you'_? Certainly not. Certainly she had run to me, held me and wept over our reunion. I couldn't believe that there was anyway that she could be so casual about the whole thing. _Not unless she's heavily drugged,_ I thought. _If she's on Valium, I might be able to understand. _

"Uh, yeah, you too," I said, still stunned by her greeting. Mark had been warmer to me than she had, and we had only just met.

"Girls, come meet your sister," she called.

The two girls stopped whatever game they were playing, to come stand beside my mother. And theirs as well, really.

"Girls, what do you say?" Mark inquired.

"Hi, it's very nice to meet you, welcome to our home," they said in unison, sounding slightly creepy.

"Hey, I'm Jayden."

"Are you going to live with us now?" the youngest one asked.

"Uh, no."

"Why not? Don't you like our family? We can share our mom _and_ dad with you, if you want," she said.

"No, I'm good; I've got a set of my own back in California. Thanks, though."

"But mom said that you were our sister. She said that she was your mom, too. How can you have other parents?" the oldest one asked.

Honestly, did these kids know nothing? "They adopted me when I was little."

"Dad let us adopt a dog, is that the same thing?" the youngest one asked.

I cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know, but I would probably think not."

"Well why don't you have a seat; you probably have a lot you want to talk about, right?" Mark said, motioning towards the single couch in the room.

I walked to it and sat down. Following behind me were Vanessa and Crystal, though I still didn't know which was which. On the other side of me sat my mother and Mark. She took my hand in hers and petted it. "So, what have you been up to?" she asked.

_Oh yeah, she_ has _to be on something,_ I thought.

"Well, quite a bit since you last saw me," I said, still confused and slightly hurt by her actions. Why was she being this way?

"Fair enough. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Uh," I said and paused. My mind reeled trying to make sense of the surreal events. But it couldn't. "No." I shook my head lamely. "I don't."

"Well you're pretty, you look like your father, but I guess I can forgive you for that," she said, trying to make a joke.

"That's what May said, but it really doesn't mean much to me; I never knew him. Who was he?"

"He was a solider and died in the war before you were born," she responded immediately.

I looked at her with a quirked eyebrow. "But May said that you were only together for one-"

"Yes, May's a blabber-mouth who likes to gossip, don't listen to everything she says," she said with a laugh.

I was very confused now. "Okay, uh…how long did you know each other?"

"We grew up together, high school sweethearts, married right after we graduated and only three months later, he was sent to fight. He never came back."

"Someone had lied to me and something told me it wasn't May. The longer I sat there listening to her speak, the more disappointed I became. Was this who I had really been looking for?

"Our daddy's still alive," the oldest daughter said to me.

_No kidding, Sherlock, and he must be_ so _freakin' proud of how smart you are,_ I thought.

"Crystal, that's not very nice. Apologize to her," Mark said.

"I'm sorry," Crystal said, sounding unenthusiastic and bored.

"It's all right," I lied. "Don't worry about it."

"What are you going to be for Halloween?" Vanessa asked me.

The conversation was so erratic that I could barely focus. I felt tapped in a bad movie. One that tried to cram in drama, comedy, and for me, a little _too much_ mystery. It wasn't jelling, there was no order to it and it was far too confusing. In all honestly, I had _no_ idea what was going on.

"I'm not," I said.

"You're not dressing up?" she asked, her mother falling open, as if in shock.

This was one weird family.

"I stopped dressing up for Halloween when I was like, eleven."

"Well, I'm going to be a ballerina," she said. "And Crystal's going to be a fairy."

"How delightful," I said dryly, intending for it to come out the way that it had. I couldn't take it. "Is there anyway that you and I could talk along for a little bit? There's some things that I really need to ask you."

She looked at me seriously for the first time since I had arrived. "Uh, Mark, could you help the girls finish getting their costumes on and take them over to the Baker's?"

"Yeah, Chris, Van, let your mother and Jayden talk," Mark said as he stood. "Jayden, it was nice to meet you and I hope you come back and visit us soon. Our home's always open to you."

I smiled at him as he and his daughters walked from the den. He seemed nice; I liked him. "Thank you," I said, being honestly sincere. "Does he know the real truth about my father?" I asked, once they had left.

"What real truth? I told you about him, he knew that."

"I don't remember a lot about living with you, but I know that out of all of my memories, you never spoke about him. If you really were that close and that in love, I think I would have remembered you talking about him."

"He died in the war-"

"What war? How old was he? What was his name? Where was he born? What did he look like?" I quizzed, raising my voice in frustration. "I lived with you until I was three, I don't remember _anything_ about him. None of his family, no pictures, nothing. I'm not your husband, I'm not someone you need to impress, I'm your _daughter_. You gave me away and _I_ deserve explanations. I deserve answers because I've had to live my life not knowing who I am. Why couldn't you _keep_ me?"

I was upset, confused and on the verge of tears. I had dreamt of meeting her since I was old enough to and yet all of my dreams were dashed in the few short minutes that I sat there talking to her.

"You don't really want to hear the truth, sweetie, you just think you do."

"No, you're not copping out on me again. I'm an adult now, I deserve the truth and I want to hear it."

I felt my expression turn to the same as I had seen Logan wear that night in the bar, just before he had agreed to let me stay with him. It was pain. It was anger. It was frustration. It was something I couldn't understand.

I looked in her eyes and tried to forge a connection with her. She was my mother. She gave birth to me. But, there was nothing there. She was simply a person that I had once known.

I shook my head. "I've waited _fifteen years_ to find out why you dropped me off at an orphanage in Edmonton and just left me. People have told me that you didn't love me, you didn't care about me, that if you wanted to keep me, you could have found a way. I've taken up for you before I remember you telling me before you left that you wanted me to have a better life. But that's not really why you gave me away, is it? For all of these years I've defended your decision and that's…" I stopped and shook my head. "It had nothing do with me having a better life, did it?"

"I was very young and made a bad decision when I slept with your father. _I_ made a mistake, _I_ paid for it, and I didn't think that _you_ should have to, too."

Thoughts, images and sounds flashed through my mind at a painful rate. I saw things that contradicted what she said, and made it all perfectly clear. "You were ashamed of me," I said, looking at her. I had never felt so hurt by anything in my life. "You were ashamed of _me_ because of what _you _had done. You didn't care if I was ever adopted; you just wanted me away from you. The only person you wanted a better life for was yourself. You still don't want me here or as a part of your family because you're scared of how it'll reflect you. The only reason why you've told your family about me was because you felt guilty, and even still, you made up a complete lie to feed to them about what happened." I couldn't get over what I had seen. "How could you do that to me?"

She looked away. "You looked like him when you were born, but the older you got, the more you looked like him and I couldn't take it. It was weak on my part, yes, but don't you think it was a fair trade? You didn't have me but you got a family that didn't resent you for who you were."

I stood from the couch. "No, I didn't get a fair trade. I got handed some game of charades that I had to keep up. I was given a responsibility in my life that I never asked for. Decisions were made for me without my consent. I was given an empty life. All for what? So that you could get married and play house?" I said, walking towards the door of the den. I turned back before leaving the room. She stood, as if she were going to try to consol me. I put up my hand to stop her. "Don't, just…don't, okay? I'm still trying to figure out if this was stupid or not. Because even though I've spent almost all of my life wanting to be with you, at least now I know better and I don't have to waste any more time on you. You know…I owe some people an apology. I told them that you cared about me." I shook my head. "I guess I was wrong."

"Jayden, I _do _care about you and I'm sorry."

"No, this will be a lot easier if you don't do that." I let out a sigh. "I hope you enjoy your family. Or at least the one you're not ashamed of."

As I left, I found myself wondering about me. I no longer knew who I was and I had just walked away from the last person who did.


	7. Understanding

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a broken foot...at least I _think_ it's broken, anyway. Hurts like all get out. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

My stomach growled as I flipped through the channels on the TV. It had been four days since my meeting with my mother. I hadn't left my motel room since. I only got up to eat, go to the bathroom and shower. At that point, I didn't even want to get up to eat.

As I flipped through the channels, I landed on a 'Three Stooges' movie and lost all interest in the TV. I turned it off and dropped the remote to the floor. I rolled over to my side and started crying. I didn't know who for, or what about, but I couldn't help from it.

There was a knock on my door and I ignored it. Mark had come by once and May and Barbara had both called. I finally understood why people hated small towns; once you were there, you were part of everyone's business. At least they thought so, anyway. They knocked again. _Just go away_, I thought. But they wouldn't, they just kept knocking. Then they finally opened the door.

"What are you doin' here by yourself with the door unlocked?" It was Logan. "Someone could just walk in and kill you, kid."

"Maybe I want someone to."

"Well you're sure actin' like it."

"How nice of you to come back and start telling me what to do," I sniffled. "What do you want? Your money back? I've only got about seventy-five or eighty dollars left, but you can have it."

He walked over and stood in front of me. "I don't want your money. Move over."

"Why?"

"So I can sit down."

"No, why are you here if you don't want my money?" I asked, sitting up in bed. I wiped at my tears with the sleeve of my shirt.

He sat down at the foot of my bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Why?"

"You're cryin'."

I pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged them, resting my chin on my knees. "You were right."

"About what?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"My mother. She didn't want me."

"You found her?"

"Yeah, she lives here in town. She resented me because I looked like my father. Some man that I never met because I was the result of a one night stand that she considered a mistake. I was just a mistake to her."

"She said that?"

I shrugged. "Some of it. But I saw most of it. While I was sitting there talking to her."

"I'm sorry, kid."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing; you were right."

He swore and shook his head. "I was bein' a jackass that day."

I cocked my own eyebrow at him. "And you're not everyday?"

"I'm tryin' to apologize kid, would you shut up and let me do it?"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"'Cause I yelled at you and left you out in the middle of no where."

"While it was raining."

"Well, that's pretty much a given with this weather."

"How did you know I was here?"

"You ain't the only one that sees things."

"Why are you here?"

He looked away and let out a deep breath. "I don't know."

"You came all the way back here, but you don't know why?"

"Do you know why you see me? Why you had to find me?"

"No."

"And I don't know why I came back, either," he said. "Look, I'm sorry that I left you, I said I wouldn't and I did."

"So you don't want me money?"

He shook his head and cracked a small smile. "No."

"Good, because I forgot to mention that I still have to pay for staying here tonight."

"You still lookin' for a ride?"

"I don't know; are you going to snap on me and freak out so you can leave me in the freezing rain again?"

"You're not gonna' let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope."

He smirked at me. "I won't do it if you tell me the name of the sixth stooge?"

I found myself smiling despite my best efforts not to. "No, you're going to have to _really_ make it up to me before I even come close to talking about that subject again."

"How 'bout I start with gettin' us outta' this hell hole first thing in the mornin'? You tired of bein' here yet?"

"You have no idea. This is the longest I've stayed in one place since meeting you. I think I know why you move so much now," I said. "And this is the one place that I didn't want to be stuck in for very long."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, listen to me kid, you gotta' promise me something, alright?"

"What?"

"When you decide to leave, you gotta' go back home to your family, alright?"

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter why; I just need to know you'll do it."

"I can't promise you that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know if I can or not. I ran away from home, Logan, I stole money from my parents. They think I'm…_psycho_-"

"Which I'm beginning to understand," he muttered. I shot him a look. "Sorry, go on."

"Well I was going to say that it's…nice to actually have someone know that I'm a mutant and not have to worry about if they're going to hate me for it."

He let out a deep breath. "I need you to promise me that you'll _try_, alright?"

I stared at him intently for a moment. Something was trying to form in my mind. A vision. A mental picture. A sound. Something. But it wouldn't. There was a reason for why he was there, for why he cared whether or not I ever went back to my family. It was right there, at the edge of my mind, but I couldn't quite see it. If I could get it to form in my mind, I just knew that it would also answer why I couldn't go to sleep without seeing him.

I nodded my head slowly. "Okay, I promise that I'll try."

"And if you can't go back, then you gotta' do something besides hitchin' rides with strangers. You gotta' find somewhere safe to live."

"Like where?"

He looked away from me. "There's a school in New York. It's in Westchester and if you need to, you can stay there."

I thought for a moment. "The same school where you live?"

"Yeah, sort of."

There was definitely something he wasn't telling me.

"Okay, I can go that."

He looked back to me, into my eyes. "Good," he said. "You hungry?"

I let out a small laugh. "I'm starving."

"Let's go get something to eat."

I can't explain why, but for some reason, I just couldn't stay mad at him. When everyone else had given up or left me, he had come back. No one else had ever come back for me. Not until him.

* * *

"Do you actually know what you're doin'?" Logan asked.

I had talked him into going to the store to buy food for dinner rather than going out. The only restaurant in town was the one where Barbara and May worked. The last thing I wanted was to be around any nosey people. I enjoyed my privacy with Logan and for that I was having to pay. I was trying my hand at cooking.

"Not really," I said with a laugh. I was _attempting_ to cook chili, but it wanted to remain soup instead.

"I don't know why you wouldn't just let me buy some cans of it. We could've been done eatin' by now."

"Because as soon as this stuff cooperates, it's going to be really good. Besides, there's no a can opener in here."

He took a beer from the refrigerator and popped it open, taking a long drink from it. "I _am_ a can opener, kid. You ain't already forgot about my claws have you?"

I smiled at him. "No. This is going to be good, though, so just chill out."

He peered into the small pot on the stove in front of me and cocked and eyebrow. "Yeah, it looks great," he said dry and sarcastically.

"Shut up. This is my first time cooking."

"I think you need to stir it more."

"I think you need to let me cook however I want, and _I_ think it needs to sit so it can thicken more. Besides, you know what they say; too many cooks spoil the broth…even though I'm making chili."

He looked at it again. "You sure it ain't already spoiled?"

I pointed to the couch. "Go!" I said laughed. "Leave me alone!" He went to the couch and sat down, before turning on the TV. "I have to go to the bathroom, if this stuff starts smelling like it's burning or boils over or something, just turn it off."

"Or throw it out the window."

"Yeah, if it starts burning you can throw it out the window, if that makes you happy," I said rushing to the bathroom.

When I was through and done washing my hands, I shut off the water. I could hear voices talking in the other room. I assumed it was only the TV and decided to pull up my hair to get it out of my face, but then I realized that one of the voices was Logan's. I strained to listen to his, pressing my ear against the door. _Who is he talking to_, I wondered.

"Who are you?" I heard Logan ask, I could tell he was holding back a growl.

"My name is Mark Joan. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bother you, sir. I was looking for the girl who was staying here before you."

"Who are you lookin' for?"

"Her name's Jayden, but I guess she checked out already. I apologize for the confusion."

I let out a deep breath and rested my forehead on the door, waiting for him to go away. I was looking forward to getting out of that place. I waited to hear for him to leave, but instead of the sound of the door closing, I heard something smack up against the wall. Then Logan growled.

"Why are you lookin' for her?"

I opened the door to see Logan pinning Mark against the wall by the front door. _Fantastic,_ I thought. _My mother sends her lackey husband over to check on me when it should be her, and now he's going to get the crap beat out of him._

"Logan, stop. He's married to my mother," I said, emerging from the bathroom.

"Well what's he doin' here?"

"I don't know," I said. "If you haven't shut off his windpipe completely, you could try _asking_."

"What do you want?" he growled low at Mark.

"I was just checking to make sure that she was okay. Brie said she was pretty upset when she left the house the other day."

"So she sent you over here so she wouldn't have to feel guilty?"

"What? No, she didn't send me over here. I was on my way home from work and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"She didn't send you?"

"No, she doesn't know I'm here."

"Why not?"

"She didn't want me to bother you. She told me that you were upset with the girls and me and how we treated you while you were there. I wanted to apologize. I know that you've wanted to see her for nearly fifteen years. I don't want to keep the two of you apart, you mean a lot to her and we would love to have you as part of our family," he said, looking uncomfortable. Logan still had him trapped between him and the wall.

"She told you that it was your fault that I was mad and left?"

"Yeah. She said you thought we were rude and cold. We never meant to come off that way, and I'm sorry if we did."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Your daughters are brats, yeah, but they're not why I left. Or you for that matter. I left because of _her_. _She_ was why I was pissed."

"What?" he asked confused. "Why would she say that it was because of us if it wasn't?"

"Because she's a liar. She lied to you and me about why she gave me up for adoption. She lied to you about my father. And I don't even know what else."

"What do you mean she lied to me about your father?"

"They didn't grow up together; they didn't even go to high school together. She met him at the diner here in town when she worked there. She slept with him, they had a one-night stand and that was it. She gave me away because I apparently look like him and I only served as a reminder of her mistake."

"Why would she lie, though?"

"I don't know. I don't know the woman."

"Well, I'm sure that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Why don't you just come back to the house and we can talk about it."

"And let her know that you've come over here when she told you not to?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't mind, I just don't want to keep the two of you apart."

"Why are you being so _nice_? Your wife has lied to you about being married, about me, and about why I left. You should be furious! Not only that, but _you're _not keeping us apart. I like _you_, at least what I've seen of you so far, it's all her. It's _her_ fault. She didn't want me, so she gave me away. That's fine. But I've spent years thinking that it was all because she _couldn't_ take care of me, not because she didn't _want_ to. I've wasted years of my life on her and I don't plan on wasting anymore. You seem like a really nice guy and I really appreciate you trying to fix this, but it's not going to be. In all honestly, I don't want to be part of her life and I really don't want her to be part of mine."

"I think you can work this out."

"I don't think we can. This is more than just having a bad reunion. This is finally realizing what I was, and still am, to her; a mistake."

"I think-"

"No, Mark, it's not going to work," I said, interrupting him.

"No, I think something's on fire," he said, pointing.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that the pot with the chili in it was smoking. "Crap!" I yelled, running to it.

I pulled it off the stove and the movement caused it to catch fire. I ran it to the sink and turned on the faucet, running water over it. However, that didn't quite have the effect I was going for. Although it put the fire out, the smoke that came rolling off it when right into my face. Also, the sauce and beans in the pot were so hot that they popped out, burning my hand that was still holding the handle of it. I yanked my hand away and attempted to scream from the pain, but the smoke that I had inhaled caused me to choke instead.

"Move kid," Logan said, nearly pushing me away from the sink. He opened the window above it and slung the pot with the burnt chili in it out into the ally behind the motel. Just as he did, the smoke alarm went off. He swore. "Great," he muttered, reaching up and snatching it off the wall. He turned it off and took it over to the open window, trying to get it away from the smoke, which he was trying to fan out. "Sorry darlin', but you're never cookin' again." I coughed out a reply of agreement. "How's your hand?"

"It got popped, but I think I'll be alright."

He sat the smoke alarm down and walked to me. "Yeah, let me see it," he said, taking my hand. He swore again. "You burnt it."

"It'll be fine, don't worry about it."

"Go put some toothpaste on it." I looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. "It takes the sting out. Now go put some on it."

I went into the bathroom and found my toothpaste. Then I squirted some out and spread it over the parts of my skin that had gotten hi. Immediately it began to sting.

"Is this a freakin' joke, dude?" I yelled out. "This stings like a mug!"

"It's taken the burn out, leave it on there," he called back.

"If this doesn't really work, I'm slitting your throat while you sleep, just so you know."

"Hey, from what I've heard, it works. I ain't ever had any use for it, though."

I left the bathroom, carefully holding my hand so as not to get any toothpaste on my clothes. "I'm sorry Mark, but I think it would probably be better if you just left. We have to clean this mess up, find something else to eat and really, I just think this is a waste of your time. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry that this had to turn out the way that it did for you. If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Even if you don't want to talk to Brie, I'll do what I can."

"She's fine, I'm takin' care of her," Logan said.

"Just be careful. Bye Jayden," he said, walking out the door.

"Bye." I watched as he left, closing the door behind him as he went, and I couldn't help but think that that would probably be the last time I ever saw him. I heard Logan make a noise and I turned to him. "What?"

"His last name is _Joan_?"

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"Look, I'll give you a little bit of advice kid; don't ever trust anyone that has a first name for a last name, alright?"

"Is that why you're having a hard time with me, because he told you not to trust someone with a last name like mine?" Dr. Lewis asked, interrupting me.

I shrugged. "It's on a long list of many. Can I get back to the story?"

"Yes, please continue."

I walked over to wear Logan was standing and pulled myself up on the counter by the sink. "So," I said, smiling at him sheepishly. "What's for dinner?"

* * *

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night, as I had with the past few nights before it. I refused to hum or rock myself, and so I tossed and turned for hours.

"Lay still," Logan mumbled from where he was lying face down on the couch.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I can't sleep."

"Well, sing some of 'I'll Be Seein' You' and _then_ go to sleep."

"Why? Does that song help you when you can't sleep? I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"You sang it when you were with me."

"No I didn't."

"I'm not arguin' with you, kid. You would hum it every single night right before you went to sleep."

I sat up in bed. "That's what the name of the song is; 'I'll Be Seeing You?"

"You didn't know what it was called?"

"No, I don't even know the words to it. My mother sang it to me when I was little; to help put me to sleep."

"She did?" he asked, lifting his head from the couch to look at me. Even though it was dark, I could see the outline of his raised eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"So that's why you're not hummin' it?"

I nodded. "I don't want anything that has to do with her anymore."

"Why does it have to be about her?"

"Because she's the one who sang it to me."

"You didn't even know the name of it until I told you."

"So?"

"So, how long you been singin' it to get yourself to go to sleep."

"Hum," I corrected. "I don't sing. At least not well."

"Whatever, how long?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, for as long as I can remember. But no one's ever known what it was before."

"Well outta' all of these years, ain't there been one good thing about it that didn't involve your mother?"

I smiled at him in the dark. "You're desperate to get me to go to sleep, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know…how does the song go, maybe that'll help me?"

"Uh…" he said sleepily, shaking his head. "Um…I'll be seein' you, in all your old familiar places. I'll be seein' you, something, something, something, I'll be lookin' at the moon, but I'll be seein' you, or something."

"It sounds depressing."

"It's supposed to be."

"How do you know it?"

"'Cause I'm old. Now go to sleep."

"Well does it remind you of anyone?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

He let out a deep breath. "What, you don't already know?" he asked sarcastically, trying to avoid the question.

"I don't read minds, I just see things." He grunted, shifting around on the couch as he tried to get me to forget what I had asked him. "Jean or Marie?"

His eyes snapped up and met with mine. There was a connection between us. There had been since we had first met. I didn't understand how I could have such a strong connection with someone who was nearly still a stranger to me and yet have none whatsoever with my own mother. I kept my eyes locked with his. I never wanted to lose that connection or closeness with him.

"Both," he admitted quietly.

"How long did you know Jean before she did?"

"I don't know, a few months."

"I saw the two of you again the other night and I just…" I paused and shook my head.

"You just what?" he asked.

"I just can't imagine loving someone that much. I don't think I ever could. It's crazy, but I think I would be too scared to."

"Why?"

"Because all the people that I've ever cared about have ended up hurting me. If I let myself actually _love_ someone that strongly, how badly would it hurt when they end up disappointing me?"

"How do you know everyone's gonna' disappoint you?"

I smiled a little. "You know as well as I do that everyone does at some point. I've seen and felt your disappointment in people. I don't mind it so much though, because I get to learn from it."

He shook his head. ""Whatever you've seen or felt from me, don't pay attention to it, all right? I'm old, I've lived a long time and I've earned the right to not trust people. You're barely eighteen, you ain't earned that yet."

"But you _do_ trust people; Jean, Marie-"

"You?" he asked, interrupting me with a cocked eyebrow.

"I hope, but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"Do you trust me?"

I thought for a moment, then shrugged, letting out a deep sigh. "Yeah, I think I do."

"You might really be crazy then, kid," he joked.

"Here lately I've been thinking that that's a real possibility," I said seriously.

"Don't. You're not crazy. You got a lotta' gut doin' what you did. There ain't n other eighteen year old girl that I know that could've made their way to Canada and found me on their own."

I raised an eyebrow. "And how many eighteen year old girls do you know?"

"Well I do live at a school, you know."

I laughed as I lay back down and pulled the blankets up around me and tucked myself in. "So you don't think I'm crazy?"

"No."

"Good."

"Go to sleep."

"Okay, night."

"Night."

I went to sleep that night humming and rocking myself to sleep. I decided right then that the song no longer belonged to my mother, it belonged to Logan.

"So even though he was more of a father figure, he was really a replacement for your biological mother. Is that true?" Dr. Lewis asked.

I cracked a grin that he couldn't see from where I was standing. "Out of all that, _that's_ what you chose to ask me about? Wow," I said with a laugh, shaking my head. "Logan wasn't a replacement or a figure of anyone. He was just…him."

"Why did you still feel so strongly about him even after he abandoned you in the middle of a road? You say you don't trust people very easily, but I would think that the most trusting of people would have a hard time forgiving that."

"Ah, but forgiveness and trust are two completely different things. I've forgiven my mother for what she did, otherwise I would constantly be full of hate, and that's no fun for anyone. But to _trust_ her…I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her."

"But you trusted him?"

"I still do. He yelled at me, he left me, but he came back. He apologized. Do you know how rare a thing that is for someone like him? He doesn't get attached to people, and he certainly doesn't care about what other people think of him. But for me, he did."

"You wanted someone who was willing to…forfeit something for you?"

"In a way, yeah. I wanted something that was mine. As I said before, there was a connection between us that I had never felt before. I had never felt like a part of anything before, but with him-"

"At the beginning of our session, you said that he didn't make you feel that way."

I turned around to face him and let out a sigh. I leaned back against the windowsill. "It's hard to explain-"

"Yes Miss Rivers, you keep telling me that. But I don't think it is."

"I'm not doing this on purpose. I'm telling you what you asked me to. I'm sorry if I find it difficult to find the right words to describe what I went through. It was very personal to me and to be quite honest, I don't really want to be telling you or anyone else about it. This is something that I should be able to keep. It's mine. But you, you're sitting there, analyzing everything I say and do. You're trying to figure out if what I'm telling you is even true. You think I'm making it up just to give you a story. You think that I just ran away, lived with some stranger for nearly two months and when I ran out of money, I came running home to my parents. You think that I've created all of this is my mind as a means to make me feel better about what you think really happened. And _that_ is why this is so hard and difficult and complicated. Because you don't believe me. I can't just simply say it and you take my word for it. You need me to explain it; you need it to be logical and reasonable. And I don't know how to make it seem that way, because none of it probably way. So stop trying to figure out what meaning I'm hiding behind the words I use, I'm just telling you a story. You can chose to believe it or not, but don't pick it apart, not in front of me."

He took the glasses from the end of his nose and stared at me. "Is that what you think I'm thinking?"

"It's what I know you're thinking."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because when I turned around I could hear it. I could feel it. As a professional, aren't you supposed to give me the benefit of the doubt?"

He continued staring at me for a moment longer before putting his glasses back on. Then he smiled at me. "You know, you would be very good in the field; you read people very well."

"You don't believe me?"

"There's a number of ways you could have known what I was thinking. Facial expressions, body language-"

"I've been facing away from you until just now, Dr. Lewis. I haven't seen any of your facial expressions or body language."

"Tone of voice, then."

"So you're saying that either I'm fantastic at reading people, that I got all of that from the sound of your voice, or that you're just a shoddy doctor who's letting his own emotion show through," I said, turning back to the window. I placed a finger to the glass and followed a raindrop down, tracing after its trail. "And while we're off topic; how's your wife? Today's her birthday, isn't it?"

"How did you know that?"

"Because although you're supposed to be listening to me, you're really just hoping that I'll hurry up and get this finished so that you can go home and see her."

He let out a small laugh. "Very good Jayden, it seems you've done your homework. I almost forgot that I printed happy birthday to her in the newspaper."

I turned around to face him once again. I raised an eyebrow in question. "You paid to have 'happy birthday' written to her in the newspaper, but you haven't even bought her a present yet? That's thoughtful." His eyes went wide. "You're a doctor; you can do better than flowers and dinner. Besides, roses are so over done."

"But I was…I hadn't thought about that since-"

"Since I was blabbing away about how hurt I was that my mother was ashamed of me. I know, _so_ professional," I said with a wink.

"But how did you know?"

"Look, if you believe nothing else, believe that I _am_ a mutant, I _do_ see things. I heard them, and I feel them. Whether or not you truly believe that any of the things that I told you actually happened or not, I don't care. But this, _this_ is real."

He stared at me for a moment, and then shook his head. "So, uh…" he said, flipping through his notes. "What happened next?"

I shook my own head and smiled.

After I got myself to sleep that night, I slept well. But that morning, while I was in the middle of a dream, a vision came to me. For the first time in my life, I questioned my ability to tell the difference between the two. When what I was seeing was too absurd, I refused to believe that it was true. But then it clicked. It made sense. Everything was explained. I woke up with a gasp. I sat up and looked at Logan, still sleeping on the couch. I finally understood why I could get him out of my head.


	8. Pleading Eyes

Disclaimer: If you don't know by now that I don't own the rights to Marvel or Fox, then what's the point of these things anyway? To take up extra space when I write a short chapter, now I remember! Yes, this is a short chapter, but I felt it needed to be this short, so I hope ya'll don't mind and please enjoy!

* * *

It was still dark out when I got out of bed. I went into the bathroom to take a shower and I was reminded of the first night I had spent with him. I was confused and unsure. I didn't know what to do with the information that I had seen nor did I know how to get my mind wrapped around it. The stress of the situation brought on a headache and I couldn't hold back my tears. I was so conflicted. I didn't know what to do. I had decided and promised Logan that once I finally understood why I saw him, I would leave. But I didn't know how I could. He was something I had never felt before. He was the only person with whom I had ever felt a connection. Other than the one time I had been scared of him, I had never felt safer with anyone else. He had done everything for me. He had taken care of me. He had protected me. He had been willing to, and had proven that he would, even kill for me. We had gotten mad, we had fought, there was a point where we hadn't even gotten along, but I didn't know what to do without him there. I was completely devoted to him. I didn't know how I could ever leave him.

I waited until I had stopped crying before getting out of the shower. I worried that if I turned off the water, he would hear me and I didn't know how to explain what I had seen. I didn't really know if I wanted to.

I got dressed in my jeans and a T-shirt. Then I brushed my teeth and dried my hair the best I could with my towel, before brushing through it with my fingers. I took my time, doing everything to delay the fact that once I got out, Logan would probably be awake and I would have to deal with him. I also wanted to make sure that I had my emotions in check. If anything was off, he was going to be able to tell. However, the more I thought about it, the more worried I became and that in turn, just made me nervous. I tried to take my time, but soon I didn't have anything else to do and just found myself standing there. I took in a deep breath and then let it out. That was it. I couldn't delay it anymore.

I left the bathroom and sure enough, Logan was awake, sitting up on the couch. "You're up early," he said, looking still half-asleep.

"Yeah, I had a vision that woke me up and I thought I might as well get a head start on leaving."

He looked up at me. "What'd you see?"

"Different stuff," I said vaguely.

"Everything alright?"

I plopped down on the edge of my bed. "Yeah, I'm just ready to get out of this place."

"You sure that's all?"

I shrugged. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

I thought for a moment, searching for something to say. "What would happen if I didn't figure out why I see you? I've been with you for over a month, you've been gone for over two, eventually you're going to have to go back to New York, right?"

"I said I wouldn't leave you until you figured this out."

"But what happens if I _never_ figure it out?"

"Then I guess you're stuck with me," he said with a wink.

I gave him a small smile. He cocked his head to the side and stared at me with a quirked eyebrow. "What?" I asked.

"What happened to your arms?"

I looked down and saw the faded bruises. "Oh, um…they're from where you grabbed me," I said sheepishly. "They're starting to go away."

He kept staring at me. "I did that?"

"Yeah, they don't hurt, though. Not anymore."

He furrowed his brow in thought and anger. Then he shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry Jayden."

I smiled. "I think that's the first time you've called me by my real name without me having a vision first. It's nice to hear it while I'm not crying or unable to breathe."

He smiled faintly at me. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he said, looking truly sorry.

I looked in his eyes. I was so confused about what to do. I didn't want to leave him, but I didn't know how I could stay. He had a life. He had a home. He had a _family_. I could just stay with him forever. I had to let him go back at some point.

"I know you didn't," I said. "You want to get out of this place? I'm starting to get hungry and I want to get as far away from here as possibly before we stop."

"Yeah, let me get dressed and we can leave."

I had to let him go back to Marie.

* * *

We drove for four hours before we stopped. We had been driving north, getting as far from there as we could before our hunger got the best of us. We pulled over at a place he insisted had great barbeque ribs. He was right.

"This is just something you shouldn't eat on a date," I said, licking sauce from my hand.

"How many dates you been on?"

"Well…none, technically. I wasn't really allowed to have a boyfriend until I turned eighteen. I've been a little busy since then."

"I've noticed," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

I raised my eyebrow at him. "I thought you didn't spend your time noticing what I did with mine?" I asked with a smirk.

He laughed and smiled at me. "Yeah, well, I ain't got nothing better to do, now."

I tucked the hair behind my ears and looked over at the TV hanging in the corner above us. "The game's back on," I said, nodding to it. A hockey game was on and we had been trying to catch the end of it. It was two local teams playing against each other. It was the third period and they were tied with three goals each. "You know, I wanted to play hockey when I was younger."

"Really?" he asked, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah," I said, pushing away my own plate and cleaning my hands with my napkin.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

"My parents wouldn't let me."

"Why?"

"They didn't want me to play any type of sports. They were afraid I would get hurt. Also, it's not very 'proper' for a girl to play something that rough."

"Well what did they want you to do?"

"They wanted me to be a cheerleader, or something."

He smirked at me. "A cheerleader? Really?"

I rolled my eyes and through my wadded up napkin at him. "Shut up. I _wasn't_ one; they just _wanted_ me to be one."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said, a smirk still plastered across his face.

"I used to hang out with them and they were…idiots, and snobs, and I hated them. I would honestly just as soon as chewed my own arm off before becoming one myself."

"If you didn't like 'em, then why'd you hang out with 'em?"

"Because my parents wanted me to. They knew their parents and…I don't know. I wasn't allowed to have any other friends. All the people I wanted to hang out with were the 'wrong sort'."

"Do they let you do anything?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, it's just stuff that they want me to do."

"Why don't you do what you want to do?"

"Because it's always been easier for me to just do what they wanted. I knew that eventually I was going to get out of there and I could do what I wanted then, and these past two months, that's what I've done.

"Do you like your parents?"

"Yeah, I love them."

"No, do you _like_ 'em?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know. I'm a teenager; I'm not meant to, am I?" I said with a bit of a forced laugh.

"Are they good to you?"

"Yeah," I said, my chest tightening with anxiety. Talking to him was hard and awkward after my vision. I wanted to joke and forget about it, but when our conversation turned serious, I couldn't hide my tension. "They're a little tough, but they just want what's best for me." I let out a sigh and looked at the TV. It had gone back to commercial. "They're my family. After the disappointment of meeting my real mother…they're the family I have, they're who I know. They've raised me and whether I like or agree with them or what they do, they've taken care of me. So yeah, they're good to me."

"Are you happy with them?"

I looked back to him. "No."

"Have you ever been happy?"

"For a little while, yeah. Have you?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"With Jean." I nodded. "I gotta' go make a call, alright?"

"Yeah."

"I ain't gonna' be long."

"Okay."

I watched him go to the payphone back by the bathrooms, pick up the receiver, insert change and then dial a number. I knew he was calling Marie. I felt the most jealous of her right then. I had always wanted Logan to care about me like he did her, but he didn't. And I knew he never would. She was his _family_; I was just some kid he picked up in an ally.

My head was spinning. I was scared and confused. Nothing had ever seemed so complicated in my life. I had made a huge decision when I had packed up and left home to chase after a man whom I had only seen in my visions. But I had bled with him. Hurt with him. Cried with him. I felt like a part of him, and it was easy for me to go after him. And once I found him and he didn't want anything to do with me, it took me a while, but ultimately, it was an easy decision to go find him once again. But _leaving_ him, that thought stung like a deep cut. It hurt down to my bones. I weighed the pros and cons over and over in my mind. I had to keep reminding myself between what was really right and what was only what I wanted.

Logan was a lot of things to me. He was happiness. Anger. Love. Hate. Need. Want. Clarity. Confusion. He was a cold shower in Canada during the winter. He woke me up, made me feel alive, and pissed off every inch of me. But I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't scream. I couldn't say anything because although it hurt, I had something with him that I had never had with anyone else. He was my connection.

I watched him on the phone for about five minutes, at that time he hung up and came back to our table. "You done?" he asked.

"I uh…I have to go to the bathroom, and then I'm ready to go."

"Alright."

"You can go ahead and go to the truck if you want."

"Okay, I'll go get the heater started."

I nodded my head and stood. "I'll be out in a little bit," I said, heading back towards the bathroom.

Once I was through, I exited and stood by the payphone, waiting to make sure that Logan had really gone out to the truck. As far as I could see, he wasn't there. I picked up the phone, dug out the change from my pocket and inserted it into the base. As I began to dial, my hands shook as I pressed the numbers. When I was done, I took deep breaths to try to calm myself as I listened to the phone ring on the other end. Then an answer.

"Hello?"

"Dad, it's me, Jayden."

I heard a deep sigh of relief. "Honey, are you okay, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just have to ask you something important."

"What?"

My heart felt as if it both sped up and stopped at the same time. It ached. My head pounded and I was having a hard time breathing. I shook my head_. Just go ahead and do it,_ I thought. _Stop hurting yourself. It's what's best._

"Can I come home?"

I had never felt my heart break before, but there was no other way to describe the pain I felt right then other than that.

* * *

We drove for almost seven straight hours, only stopping for bathroom breaks or to get something to drink. Once we found a motel and stopped, it was past six in the evening and starting to get dark. Together we hauled our bags through the rain to our new room. I had become accustomed to staying in motels over those few weeks and I learned that Logan and I both had somewhat of the same routine. Go in, find a place for your bag, and then immediately remove the bedspread. I had never met anyone else who had as much distaste for those things as I did until him. I couldn't help but smile a little every time I saw him do it. That night was an exception.

"You feelin' alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied. "Why?"

"You've been actin' kind'a funny today," he said, taking a beer from a grocery bag and popping it open before taking a sip of it.

"Funny how?" I stared at him from the edge of the bed that I had claimed as mind. I was nervous and doing everything I could to keep from shaking.

"You seem a little jumpy."

I shook my head at him as he sat down at the small table in the half kitchen. "I think I'm starting to get sick, actually. I think this stupid rain is finally catching up with me."

"Why don't you lay down and sleep for a while? You got up before five this mornin', that might have something to do with it."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. A nap might do me good."

"I'm fixin' to leave; do you want me to get you something to eat before I go to the bar?"

"No, I think there's some chips left over from earlier and a jar of peanut butter in one of the bags somewhere, so I think I'll be alright."

"You sure?" He stared at me. He knew I was laying, but he wasn't calling me on it.

_Please don't leave me,_ I thought. _I need you to stay here with me. Please_. I wanted to beg him to not go to the bar. I wanted him to see that he couldn't leave me. That there _was_ something wrong with me. I needed him to see my begging him with my eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

I needed him to see it because I knew I couldn't say it.

He stared at me for another moment longer. He shook his head and ran his hand back through his hair. "Alright," he said standing. "I'm gonna' go."

"Okay."

He finished his beer and threw away the can before pulling on his blue jean jacket and then his leather one. "I'll see you when I get back."

I gave him a small, sad, smile. "Yeah." I watched him walk to the door and open it. "Logan," I called out before he left.

He turned around. "Yeah."

"Uh…" My heart was pounding. "Be careful, okay? Just…just be really careful tonight."

"Yeah, I will," he said. "Bye."

As soon as I saw the truck leave, I broke down in tears. That was the last time I was going to see him and I had been too scared to tell him that I loved him.


	9. The End

Disclaimer: Yeah, my foot _has_ to be broken, it hurts too badly to be anything else...oh right, sorry; I don't own the rights to anything Marvel or Fox, I just like to bum off their ideas. It's fun. This is the last chapter, and I rewrote this sucker about four or five times,so I hope ya'll enjoy and please; review and tell me what ya'll think. So far the only thing people have complained about is bad spelling. Is that really all? I can take it! Wait, second thought... Oh well, please enjoy!

* * *

I called my parents again. They had landed in Canada a few hours before and were waiting for me to call and tell them where I was. I told them the name of the town and they looked it up. They were four hours away, but with the storm rolling through; it was going to take them about seven to get there. Once I hung up with them, I decided that Logan was right; I should take a nap. So I set the alarm clock by my bed for midnight and went to sleep. I rocked myself and hummed, but the song was broken into parts from my sobbing. I knew that what I was doing was right, but it still hurt.

My alarm was going off before I felt like I had even gotten any sleep. I lay there for a moment, just listening to the rain. That sound would always be synonymous with him in my mind.

I stood from the bed and walked to the refrigerator. I opened the door and looked around in it. I pulled out a Coke and popped it open. When I closed the door, something caught my eye. There was a note tacked to it:

'_Thought you might like something else to eat besides a sandwich, I brought you a pizza and put it on the table. I'll be back around two or three. Take care of yourself until I get back and I hope you feel better when you get up._

_L'_

I took down the note, but instead of throwing it away like the others, I folded it up carefully and stuck it in my back pocket. I needed to keep something from him. I needed to know that it was real. That he cared. I needed something to remind me of what I had felt.

I was jittery but my stomach was growling so I forced myself to eat the pizza that he had bought me. But thinking about it only made me feel sad, and in turn, make me feel even worse.

When I was done eating, I decided to write Logan a long letter. At half past one o'clock that morning, I heard a car pull up and the phone ring. My parents were there. I grabbed my bag and took one last look around the room, making sure that the letter I had written Logan was on his pillow where he could see it, then I left.

My parents hugged and kissed me, then they both cried out of joy from seeing me once again.

"We missed you so much, Jayden," my father said, holding me to him.

"I missed you too, dad," I said, pulling away from their embrace to look at them. "And you too, mom."

She pulled me back and patted my cheek with her hand. "Lets get you back to our hotel, okay?"

"Yeah, alright." We walked to the car and got in. My mother letting me have the front seat. But I felt something tug at me. We couldn't leave yet. "Wait," I said, just as my father was getting ready to pull out.

"What?"

"Can we stay here for just thirty minutes?"

"Honey, it's nearly two in the morning and pouring out."

"Dad, please, just _thirty_ minutes."

"Why?"

"I have to make sure…I just have to know something. Then we can leave and go to the hotel."

"Okay, thirty minutes."

We sat, none of us talking, until fifteen after two. That's when the truck pulled up. We were parked a few doors down from his room, but I could see him moving in the dark, walking up to the door, unlocking it and walking in. Then I saw the light flick on inside. After a few minutes, I saw the door open back up and Logan stand in the doorway. He stood there, looking out over the parking lot. His usual scowl painted on his face, but with a little more pain along with it.

I placed my hand on the window, instinctively reaching out for him.

I closed my eyes for a moment, but when I opened them; my own vision was shifting. It alternated between my own and Logan's. He couldn't see me, but he knew I was there. Everything was being chopped up. One second I'm in the car with my parents, the next I'm looking out over the parking lot.

I don't know whose emotions are whose.

I don't know which thoughts belong to him or me.

I don't know whose heart is breaking more. And I don't know that there's a difference.

It felt as if everything from him was pouring into me, and everything from me was pouring into him

"Be careful kid," he whispered.

Tears were flowing from my eyes and running down my cheek. He turned to go back inside, but he knew I could still hear him. He knew I was still inside him. He knew that our connection was still there. He took one more look out over the parking lot and shook his head.

"I loved you," we both said at the same time. Then he went back into his room and closed the door.

In that time, I realized that I had found what I had been looking for. An emotion I couldn't describe. It was him. My parents sat there, watching me, my father taking my hand to try to comfort me. He didn't know from what. They didn't know who he was, but that was it. It's that feeling that a stranger to them, knew me deeper than they ever would. That we shared something that they would never be a part of or understand. The idea that someone they had never seen or met could possibly break their daughter's heart so terribly. It was knowing that although they may not have understood or got it, they felt the connection. One so strong between us, that they, not knowing anything about us, could _feel_ it. They didn't know him, but I did, and he knew me, and _that_ was what I had been wanting. They didn't know _why_ I loved him; they just knew that I did.

We waited for a little longer. My father was letting me cry and they were both trying to stop the pain, even if they didn't understand it. Soon I saw the light flick off and the world around me was a wash of broken neon lights. I looked out my window and dried my tears. It had stopped raining. For the first time in months.

"Okay," I said, letting out a deep breath. "We can go now."

"Who was he?" my mother asked carefully as we were pulling out.

I took one final look at the motel. "Everything," I said quietly, "he was everything."

"And that was it?" Dr. Lewis asked.

I wiped at the tears I had shed while telling the story, and then turned around from the window to face him. "And that was it."

"Why didn't you tell him that you were going home yourself? He wanted you to go home and be safe, why did you write him a letter instead?"

"Because I had to explain why I was going home and I knew I couldn't do it any other way."

"Why did you go home?"

"Because of what I'd seen. Because of my vision," I said, going to the chair opposite his and sitting down. "Because of what I knew."

"What did you see?"

"I saw him." My tears still kept coming despite my best effort to keep them at bay. "I saw who he was."

"Who was he?" he asked curiously. I looked at him, my eyes shining with tears. "What did you write in the letter, Jayden?"

'_Logan,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I talked to my parents, they're letting me come back home. I wanted to tell you myself, but I didn't think I could and I wasn't sure I knew how. _

_I wanted to thank you for everything. And I mean it. From towing me around for these past few weeks and paying for my half of the motel rooms, to all of the pointless late night talks and all of the advice you've given me. And somewhere in between all of that, I think you save my life a few times, too. So thanks._

_I wanted to thank you for all of the nights you slept on those terrible couches and let me have the bed._

_Thank you for letting me watch cartoons while I ate my breakfast, even thought you insisted they were 'stupid' (By the way, I caught you smiling a few times, you even laughed once during 'SpongeBob'). You took up for me and protected me, like no one else ever has before, and I want to thank you for that._

_I want to thank you for all of the times I woke up with a terrible and painful vision and you helped me. You let me cry. You held me. It's a bit late, but I finally realized that it was you who stopped the pain. When you would say my name, it would go away. You saved me from that as well. _

_I wanted to thank you for coming back for me. You're the only person who's ever come back. And I want you to know so much what that meant to me, what it still and _always _will mean to me, but I don't know how to write it down. I don't know how to put it in words. But thank you._

_I knew that eventually, I would have to leave. I didn't know if I could ever go back home or not, but I promised you that I would try, so I did. It's not without strings, but I didn't want to let you down. Not after what you've done for me. I never felt part of something. I never felt that anyone understood me. Until you. You were everything that I was inside, but too scared to show. With my family, I've always felt out of place. My thoughts, views, opinions, morels, everything was different from theirs. I thought I was wrong somehow. But then I met you and you believed the same as me. You got it. With you, I didn't have to pretend._

_I had a hard time deciding to leave. I was, and still am as I'm writing this, scared that I'll never find it again. When I counted on everything to break, you didn't. I'm scared that I'll never find _you_ again, but I know that what I'm doing is right. For everyone. I made a promise to you that as soon as I found out why I started seeing you, I would leave. So I am._

_This morning, I had a vision and I saw you. You were with my mother. She was telling you that she was pregnant and you left. Then I saw the two of you together again, in a bathroom. She gave birth to me in a public bathroom stall and you were there. You held me. When I opened my eyes, the first person I saw was you. My father. There were a lot of other pieces in there that put the whole picture together for me, but that's really all that's important. All this time I've been trying to figure out and understand it, when all I had to do was look in your eyes. It was right there all along._

_I wanted to stay with you and that was my first thought. I had finally found someone who understood me; I had found my _father_. But I couldn't do it because I have a family. I have a home. And so do you. As much as I _want_ you, Marie _needs_ you. I don't know her, but I know she loves you and you both need each other a lot. You need to go home to her. She can help you with Jean. You can take care of her. And maybe every once in a while, you can think of me._

_You are sarcastic, and rude, and have the worst temper I've ever seen in my life, and you could use a good haircut, but I'm going to miss you _so_ much. My favorite part of the day was _always_ when you and me became we, because _you_ were where I was happiest. I knew that if I couldn't go back home, it was okay. If I never have _anything_ again, I'm okay. Because you made it all worth it. Thank you._

_P.S. The sixth Stooge's name was Curly-Joe. I don't blame you for not remembering him; he was my least favorite._

_With all of my heart,_

_Jayden'_

"He was your father?" Dr. Lewis asked.

I let out a deep breath and dried the last of my tears with my sleeve. "Yeah. He is." He handed me a tissue. "Thank you," I said.

"And you believe that's why you saw him in your visions?"

"Babies bond with their mother's within the first fifteen minutes of being born. Logan was the one that held me, not her, and I think that somewhere I knew that. I needed him. I believe that because of that, I found him."

"I thought you said that you biological parents were only together for one night? Your mother telling him that she was pregnant and him being present at the birth doesn't make sense."

"They _were_ only together for one night, but she found him to tell him about me. She thought she could make it right or something and that he would help her. She gave birth to me in a bar outside of the town she lives in. She didn't even know he was there."

"Have you told your parents any of this?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Are you going to?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

There was a buzz that came from the intercom that sat on the desk beside his chair. Then I heard a voice speaking through it. "Dr. Lewis, there's a man coming in. He's not a patient but demanded to see you. I tried to stop him but I couldn't. I'm very sorry."

He pressed a button. "Don't worry about it Mandy, I'll deal with him. Thank you."

I stood from my seat and pulled on my coat. "Looks like you have to deal with the real crazies now, doc," I said with a small laugh. "What should I tell my parents you said?"

"I think you should tell them I said happy Thanksgiving. You can fill in the rest, if you wish."

"Thank you."

"No problem," he said as I was tying on my scarf. "I do want to apologize, though, Miss Rivers."

"For what?"

"Not believing you. That's a remarkable story and I hope that in the weeks to come, the pain will start to go away."

I smiled at him. "Thank you," I said. "And I hope that you and your wife have a good night tonight for her birthday, and you both have a happy Thanksgiving as well.

When I walked into the waiting room, I saw my dad waiting for me. He smiled at me as I walked towards him. "Done already, pumpkin? I've only found ten weasels in the magazine, there's two left."

I smiled and shook my head. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb your weasel hunting, but mom's going to hang us both if we don't hurry up. She's still at the store shopping for Thanksgiving dinner while we're goofing off. And you said if I came without a fight today, I could have a prize."

He stood from his chair and put his arm around me as we walked out of the office and onto the sidewalk outside. The store was a few blocks away and we had to walk there.

"A prize? I said that?"

"Yes. Honestly dad, you promised," I joked.

"I _promised_?"

"Yep, and you can't break a promise," I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Well, if I _promised_," he said as we turned a corner together. We walked for a block or two in silence. "I love you sweetheart, you know that, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said with a sigh. "I love you, too, daddy."

Without Logan, I was weak. Without him, I was who they wanted me to be. Without him, my heart was broken.

* * *

"Jayden, you have mail!" my mother said, pushing open my bedroom door and walking in.

"Who from?" I asked from where I was sitting in my floor. It was a week until Christmas and I was wrapping presents.

"It doesn't say," she said, sitting on my bed. She held up the small, square package and smiled. "Looks like someone has a secret admirer."

I rolled my eyes. "If they admire me, I can understand why they would want to keep it a secret," I said, finishing the wrapping on a picture frame for my grandparents.

"Well open it and see who it's from!" she said enthusiastically, handing me the box.

I took one look at my name written on the address label and my heart felt as if it had gotten stuck in my throat. I knew that handwriting. I looked at a note with that same handwriting on it before going to sleep each night. With shaky hands, I cut open the box. There was small, brightly wrapped package along with an envelope inside. I pulled them both out and examined them before opening either one. _The present's too neatly wrapped to have been done by Logan,_ I thought. _He must have had someone else do it for him. _I decided to open the letter first.

'_Jayden,_

_I ain't good at this sort of stuff, you know that, but I thought you might like it, so I'm gonna' give it a try._

_I knew who you were before you told me. That mornin' that you fell asleep with me holdin' you, it felt too familiar. Just you bein' in my arms, your scent, that song you sang, or hummed, or whatever. I talked to that professor I was tellin' you about and he told me that I was right. That song was playin' when you were born and it always reminds me of you. I know I screwed up and yelled at you and all that crap right after that, but truth is kid; I ain't a nice guy. You've got a family, one that can take care of you, and I wanted you to be with them, not me. I know that if you stayed with me any longer, you would figure it out, too. I guess I was right. Look, I don't really like the idea of someone else havin' something that's mine, but I don't know what I'm doin', I don't know how to be what you need. I don't know how to be a father. You might not be happy where you're at, but you're bein' taken care of, and it makes me happy knowin' that._

_I may be rude and have a bad temper, but you snore, can't cook, you're one of the worst liars I've ever met and you're the only person who's ever pissed me off for lookin' and actin' just like me. But I'm gonna' miss you too, kid._

_Well…Merry Christmas. Actually, I hope you get this before Christmas, Marie said I was cuttin' it short by sendin' it this late. She helped me pick it out; she's good with stuff like that. And she wrapped it, too. She said she wants to meet you one day. I told her that would be up to you._

_If you ever want or need anything, you found me once; you can do it again._

_Okay, Marie made me put the phone number and address to the school in here, she said it was mean of me to make you guess. I don't think she knows how good you are, darlin'._

_Oh, and by the way, Curly-Joe was my least favorite, too. _

_L'_

I smiled and shook my head. I really missed him. I put the letter back into the envelope and picked up my present. I carefully unwrapped it and saw a CD. It was by Jimmy Durante. Confused, I looked at the back for the track listing. Somewhere near the bottom, I saw a song title and started crying and laughing at the same time.

"What is it?" my mother asked.

I stood from the floor, went to my CD player and took out my Christmas CD. Then I opened the one that Logan had bought me and placed it in there instead. I pushed it to track number eleven and stood there with my eyes closed, listening as the hauntingly familiar words and music flooded my room.

'_I'll be seeing you  
In all the old familiar places  
That this heart of mine embraces  
All day through. _

In that small cafe;  
The park across the way;  
The children's carousel;  
The chestnut trees;  
The wishin' well.

I'll be seeing you  
In every lovely summer's day;  
In every thing that's light and gay.  
I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you  
In the morning sun  
And when the night is new.  
I'll be looking at the moon,  
But I'll be seeing you.

I'll be seeing you  
In every lovely summer's day;  
In every thing that's light and gay.  
I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you  
In the morning sun  
And when the night is new.  
I'll be looking at the moon,  
But I'll be seeing you.'

"Isn't that the song you used to hum at night to get you to go to sleep when you were little?" my mom asked as the song ended.

I nodded. "Yeah."

She was quiet for a moment. "Oh, I meant to tell you, we have a guest coming over tonight. They wanted to speak to you."

"What time are they going to be here?"

"Around five or six this afternoon."

I nodded. "Alright, that's fine."

"Well, I'm going to start lunch."

"Okay, I'll be down in a little bit."

* * *

Five o'clock came quickly and soon the doorbell was ringing. I heard it from my bedroom and thought it best to go ahead and get the meeting over and done with. I walked downstairs and passed by my mother in the hall.

"Honey, can you go talk to our guest while I get him a drink of water? He's in the living room."

"Yes ma'am," I said, walking down the hall to our formal living room. I saw a man in a pair of dress pants and shirt. His back was to me and he was lightly grazing his fingers over the keys of our piano, allowing it to only make a whisper of a sound. "I think you're the first one to play that thing in about four years," I said.

He turned around and smiled at me. "Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

I cocked my head to the side. "Do I know you?"

He shook his head. "We've never met."

"But I've seen you somewhere before," I said.

He continued to smile. "Maybe."

Just then, my mother came back, passing me where I stood leaning against the doorframe, carrying a glass of water, which she handed to him. "I'm sorry, I should introduce you. This is my daughter Jayden. Jayden, this is Mr. Summers."

"_Scott_ Summers?"

"Yes," he said.

I _had_ seen him before.

"Uh, what…what are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Mr. Summers works at a school in New York. Dr. Lewis thinks it would be best if you spent some time away for a while, to get to know people more your age. He thinks it would be healthy for you."

"New York?" I asked, a small smirk on my face and a cocked eyebrow, keeping my eyes on Scott.

"I know it's far away, but I think you'll enjoy it," my mother said.

"The owner, Professor Xavier, would like to offer you a room there. Free to take whenever you want," Scott said.

"Does everyone know about it?" I asked.

"Yes, they _all_ know," Scott answered, keeping his sight locked on me, even though he was wearing red tinted glasses. "As a matter of a fact, it was another one of our teachers who suggested it."

"Teachers?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Mr. Logan, he teaches our self defense classes. I think the two of you will get along wonderfully," he said, still with a slight smile. "If you chose to go."

The doorbell rang. "Excuse me, let me get that," my mother said, leaving the two of us together in the room.

He walked over to where I was standing. "As much as I distaste the man, he cares a lot about you, and it would really mean a lot to him if you came to stay at the school."

"You don't have to talk me into anything; I made my mind up as soon as you said I had a room there."

"Good," he said. He looked at me a shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"You look so much like him, it's creepy."

I smiled. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

He smiled back at me. "Yeah, that would be nice.

Coming back from Canada was hard. I left something behind that I didn't want to let go of. But over time I realized that when we love something, it doesn't go away, it's always with us, we just have to know where to look. I also learned that sometimes, things don't always end the way we think they will. Sometimes, it's not the ending at all; it's actually only just the beginning.

_Turn it inside out so I can see  
The part of you that's drifting over me  
And when I wake you're, you're never there  
But when I sleep you're, you're everywhere  
You're everywhere _

Just tell me how I got this far  
Just tell me why you're here and who you are  
'Cause every time I look  
You're never there  
And every time I sleep  
You're always there

'Cause you're everywhere to me  
And when I close my eyes it's you I see  
You're everything I know  
That makes me believe  
I'm not alone  
I'm not alone

I recognize the way you make me feel  
It's hard to think that  
You might not be real  
I sense it now, the water's getting deep  
I try to wash the pain away from me  
Away from me

'Cause you're everywhere to me  
And when I close my eyes it's you I see  
You're everything I know  
That makes me believe  
I'm not alone  
I'm not alone

I am not alone  
Whoa, oh, oooh, oh

And when I touch your hand  
It's then I understand  
The beauty that's within  
It's now that we begin  
You always light my way  
I hope there never comes a day  
No matter where I go  
I always feel you so

'Cause you're everywhere to me  
And when I close my eyes it's you I see  
You're everything I know  
That makes me believe  
I'm not alone  
'Cause you're everywhere to me  
And when I catch my breath  
It's you I breathe  
You're everything I know  
That makes me believe  
I'm not alone

You're in everyone I see  
So tell me  
Do you see me?

The end.


End file.
